


The Angel and the D'iavol

by PMWilkinson721



Category: The Equalizer (2014), movies - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Development, Explicit Language, F/M, Marton Csokas - Freeform, Possible horrific Russian translations, Reader x Nicolai Itchenko, Reader x Nikolai Itchenko, Russian, Russian Mafia, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Smut (Later), Tattoos, The Equalizer - Freeform, Vory v Zakone, detective!reader, meddling inner voice, police!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PMWilkinson721/pseuds/PMWilkinson721
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Equalizer AU: As a New Orleans police detective assigned to an organized crime task force, you are no stranger to dangerous criminals. When Nikolai Itchenko comes into your life, you find yourself on unfamiliar ground. Scandalous encounters soon ensue...</p><p>"Now, how do I know that you are not wearing a wire, Detective?" he whispered. His heated gaze was challenging, daring me to partake in this dangerous game. </p><p>I smiled, strangely exhilarated by the reckless tension of the moment. If this was playing with fire, I was more than willing to dive headfirst into the gasoline.</p><p>"Shall I prove it you, Mr. Itchenko?" I remarked, flashing him a coy smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

The Angel and the D'iavol

Part One

 

"Imagine our own little Y/N being assigned to lofty ranks of the organized crime task force," Jacque teased. He leaned back in his chair, balancing the front legs precariously in the air.

Jacque Leveaux. My partner since the day I came the the New Orleans Police detective bureau two years ago. Jacque or "Jackie" as nearly everyone called him, was probably the most affable policeman I'd ever met. He looked less like a cop and more like a surfer boy with his messy blonde hair, tan skin, and perpetually twinkling blue eyes. Always the joker, always the flirt. The little old ladies in the records department were in love with him. They always giggled like a bunch of school girls when Jacque would sashay into the records room, all blinding white smile and Cajun charm. He loved to tease me, but was always respectful and kind. He was like the brother I never had. Though he had nearly five years longer on the job than me, he was always quick to defend my decisions to the rank. It was nice having a mentor who trusted my abilities. I had definitely lucked out being assigned with him.

We had spent these last two years in the Robbery Division. I had never worked for another police department before, but I imagine we had more than our fair share of work in a city like New Orleans. When you peeked behind the tourist facade of the city, you could see what it really was. It wasn't all Mardi Gras parades, Bourbon Street decadence, and old world charm. There was a lot of poverty, drugs, vice and violence. All the things the Tourist Commission spent immeasurable time trying to conceal, no doubt. And no doubt those things were what attracted organized crime cartels to this area.

Jacque and I had put in a lot of hours. I had heard rumors that the organized crime task force had been planning to swell its ranks, but it still came as a surprise the day I got the call that they wanted me.

I smirked at my partner. "I hardly consider it a promotion, Jacque. I'm envisioning lots of late night surveillances and listening to monotonous hours of taped conversations." I slid the latest closed case file into the drawer of my desk.

He laughed, righting his chair and taking a sip from the coffee cup on his desk. "Don't sell yourself short, kiddo. The uppity-ups wouldn't have put you there to punish you. I imagine it's going to be a cushy assignment. And if I'm lucky they'll let me trail behind you on your cases like your little dog."

Our secretary Belinda walked up, an armful of casefiles under her arm. Tall and flawlessly ebony-skinned and always dressed like a southern matriarch, she was an imposing figure. Nobody messed with Miss Belinda. Thankfully we were never the subject of her wrath. She was a very protective mother hen and considered the detectives of the Robbery Division to be chicks. She glared down the nose of her glasses at Jacque, but betrayed the stern look with a smile. "That's exactly where you belong, Jackie: on a leash."

Jacque laughed loudly. "Only if you'll be the woman yanking on it, Miss Belinda."

She smirked in feigned annoyance and turned down the hall, her eyes twinkling. "That'll be the day, Jackie-Boy."

"You know you love me!" he called to her retreating figure and she laughed.

He turned back to me. "So when do you start?"

"Tomorrow." I said, taking a swig from the sweating cup of Iced Caramel Macchiato on my desk. _Christ, I hated summertime._ The humidity was like a wall of wet wool that draped over you everywhere you went this time of year. Even in the air conditioned office it seemed to loom like a spectre, ready to pounce on you as soon as you walked out into the sweltering daylight.

I swirled the straw idly in my cup. "I report to Lt. Stevens at eight in the morning. I'll be off and running apparently. The homicide guys fished a dead guy out of the river this morning. Word is it looks like a Vory v Zakone assassination."

The Vory v Zakone. Russian mafia. They had a brutal reputation. It seemed men killed by the Vors were never just shot and left to die in the street. Your typical Russian mafia killing usually meant evidence of torture. Bodies showed up bound and gagged with cut throats, missing fingers, missing teeth and tongues, testicles cut off and shoved down throats, or sometimes just in pieces. The Russians were nothing if not extravagant when it came to disposing of someone who had crossed them. They had powerful unspoken political ties though. Lots of money and concealed influence. Mafia-related cases always seemed to go nowhere fast.

"Well I am proud of you, kid," Jacque smiled. "Always knew you were going places. I hope you'll let me tag along as much as possible."

I laughed. "Thanks, Jacque. I wouldn't have it any other way."

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

The following morning I swiped my pass card at the sensor in the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. Homicide division.

The memo from Lt. Stevens said we were meeting in the fourth floor conference room. I hoped I had dressed appropriately. This was different than the Robbery Division. I was used to the easy-going atmosphere of my department. Guys in robbery usually wore the standard button down shirt and tie or polo shirts and khaki slacks. For some reason I felt like I should dress more nicely for this occasion. I had worn a white dress shirt with the long sleeves rolled up and folded at my elbows, a shapely heather grey pencil skirt and matching dress jacket. A black leather belt, and modest black heels. My badge was fastened neatly on the front of my belt, my off-duty holster fastened on my side. I had pulled my long hair back into a ponytail and clipped the errant strands back sleekly out of my face.

Little Miss Subconscious, my ever-meddling inner voice, had been quite pleased. "That's right. You go knock 'em dead girl. It's about time they recognized you've got talent." I often imagined her to be like a more flamboyant and outgoing version of myself. She was my best cheerleader and also my most obnoxious critic.

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and I stepped out, turning to the left. The door to the conference room stood open. I recognized a few familiar looking faces seated around the round laminate table. Most of the homicide guys, a couple of guys from financial crimes, and a few bored looking guys from narcotics. A white haired man with a manicured white mustache stood at the podium at the front of the room. He turned and smiled politely as I approached. "Detective Y/L/N. It's nice to meet you finally." He shook my hand firmly. His rigid posture reminded me of an Army general. "You come with an impressive track record. Thirty cases already this year. You and your partner have been doing a lot of legwork."

"It's nice to meet you finally too, Lt. Stevens. It has been a busy summer."

He smiled. "In more ways than one. I hope you'll bring some of that energy to this group. There's been a lot of public pressure to get the crime stats under control. And these goddamned media vultures just love to insinuate that organized crime is rampant in the city."

_Well they're not entirely wrong are they?_

I nodded to him. "I'm looking forward to the work sir." That seemed like the safest reply.

"Excellent," he replied, "Please have a seat. We are just waiting on Sgt. Martinez."

I sat down next to one of the financial crimes guys in wire-rimmed glasses. _What was his name? Stanley? Stephen?_ He smiled. "How's it going?" he beamed. He seemed entirely too enthusiastic to be here.

"Not bad for eight in the morning." I laughed dryly.

He stuck out his hand. "Stuart Fletcher. Financial crimes." I shook it. _Stuart. Ah I had been close_. "Y/N. Robbery."

He figited excitedly in his seat. "This is gonna be great. I don't get out of the office much. We do mostly white collar scams and fraudulent accounting, you know? I'm really looking forward to some time in the field. These are some seriously bad guys we're investigating, huh?"

I resisted the urge to laugh. He was no doubt being entirely serious. _Oh Stuart, you poor innocent bastard._ Instead I smiled sympathetically. "Yeah so I've heard."

Martinez walked in with a thick portfolio in his hands. Martinez was the sergeant over homicide. He was short and stocky, with a barrel chest and thick neck. He always wore a grim expression on his lined face. I heard the guys over in the Vice Division had dubbed him "El Segador", The Reaper.

He set the portfolio down heavily. "This is the latest, folks." He plucked out a large 8x10 photo and laid it on the table.

It was a glossy colored photo, apparently of the newest guest at the Orleans Parish Coroner's Office. It was a man obviously young, maybe in his twenties. He was clad in a soggy blue three-piece suit that was dotted here and there with black sludgey river silt. He had dark hair and his pale skin was tinged with the bluish hue you normally see when a relatively fresh body comes out of the Mississippi River. His nose was askew, obviously broken. On his throat was a gaping slash, the wound bloodless now and yawning widely. He was lying face up on what appeared to be a morgue table. His arms were bent awkwardly behind his back, probably tied at the wrists underneath him.

Martinez spoke again. "Your typical Vor disposal it seems. Though we obviously found him before the river critters could tear him up too badly, identification is going to be a problem. All teeth were apparently pulled out and fingertips sawn off. No dental, no fingerprints. No idea yet if it was done post-mortem or before the time of death."

Stuart shifted uncomfortably next to me. He looked a little green around the gills, poor guy.

Martinez pulled out another photo. Obviously an autopsy picture. It was a close-up of the victim's bare chest. It was sparsely covered in your typical Russian criminal tattoos and spotted here and there with dark bruises.

Russian criminals are famous for their tattoos. They are typically very intricate and cover enormous portions of the body. Each one denotes something significant in their owner's life: rank and status, criminal accomplishments, prison history, mottoes and creeds. A man without tattoos is not a man to be trusted in their eyes. Though as it would seem for our Russian John Doe, that trust only goes so far.

I was pretty well versed in the more common tattoos. A cathedral was the sign of a thief, the number of cupolas indicating the number of convictions. A skull was the sign of a murderer or one who had committed an assassination. Tattooed medals and epaulets denoted rank and authority. Depictions of the Madonna and baby Jesus were very common, as well as the faces of former Soviet leaders, and they acted as criminal talismans.

The phrases were typically quite colorful. _Menya ispravit rasstrel_. Only execution will reform me. _Nadeisya tolko na sebya_. Trust only yourself. _Ot menya uiti trudno_. It is hard to get away from me. I actually knew very little Russian, but the small amount I'd learned was mostly the result of studying these kinds of tattoos.

It was a fascinating study. I had a whole volume of books on the subject on the shelf behind my desk. The artwork made my own little tattoo pale in comparison. A small angel on the left side of my lower back above my hip, the product of a college-era night of revelry years ago.

Our Russian John Doe had very few tattoos. He was obviously only an upcoming apprentice in the game. And he lacked the hallmarks of rank you typically see in the Vory v Zakone: the eight-pointed Russian stars tattooed on the chest and knees. A large cat with a Cheshire smile grinned from his right pectoral. Thief. There was a small cross in the middle of his chest, also the sign of a thief. On his left pectoral was a masted ship. This meant that he had either previously escaped police custody or else that he was some kind of traveling criminal.

"This makes the third Mafia-related homicide in just the past two months," Martinez said. "And before that, several more. They haven't all been Russians, there's been a handful of Italian and Irish too. But the recent volume of bodies turning up the last few months means something, folks. We don't know if we are dealing with a turf war between the Russians, the Italians and the Irish. Or some kind of factional war within the Vors themselves."

Lt. Stevens spoke up. "As many of you already know, the purpose of this task force is strategic interdiction. We want to disrupt as much organized crime activity as possible. But we can't do that without information. God knows those uppity pricks at the FBI are only interested in sharing the bare minimum with us. Our goal is to try to gather as much of own intel as we can to give ourselves ammunition."

"We do know that we have some new players in town," Martinez continued. "Within the last month we've had a lot of Russian visitors come through the city. Two of them are particularly interesting." He smirked. "Our friendly local FBI field office has been kind enough to give us some piece-meal intel."

He opened a dossier folder and began passing it around the room. "The first, Nikolai Itchenko. Alias Teddy Respen. Allegedly former Russian secret police. Former special forces Spetznas soldier. By all accounts, he's an enforcer. Very smart. Very dangerous. Rumor has it he's the man that Big Boss Pushkin in Moscow calls in when he needs a problem fixed. Our most recent intelligence is that he has set up shop as a "businessman" at an import company in the Warehouse District. Place is called Samovar. Some kind of place for Russian goods. Jewelry, vodkas, wines, specialty foods...."

"What like...Ruskie gourmet shit?" One of the sullen narcotics guys asked.

Martinez narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, like the shit you could afford if you weren't blowing all your money at the Hustler club every night, Davidson."

A few laughs around the room. Davidson smirked good-naturedly but kept his mouth shut.

"The next is Victor Matrovsky. I know he looks like a fat fuck, but this one has the reputation of a serious psychopath....." Martinez continued.

The Itchenko dossier reached me and I flipped it open. In it was a stack of typed pages and a photo. I studied it. He was much younger than I would have imagined. _Wow and good-looking_. He had dark hair, a chiseled jawline and handsome face. He reminded me of a 1940's silver screen heartthrob, somebody like Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart. But then again Bogie never had a reputation as a vicious hitman. It was impossible to tell the color of his eyes from the photo, but nevertheless they were strangely deep and enigmatic.

"So what do you say, "Y/L/N?"

I looked up at Martinez. _Shit_. I hadn't heard what he said.

Little Miss Subconscious smirked. "Nice going, sweetheart. Too busy ogling the Russian eye candy to pay attention?" I ignored her.

"Sir?"

"You and Davidson. Pay a visit to Samovar and make inquiries about our soggy friend from the river."

 _Great, I get to spend my first task force assignment with Detective Sullen who spends too much time in strip clubs_.

"Killian and Carmichael, you guys make the rounds on Bourbon Street. See if anyone recognizes this guy. The rest of us are going to start moving on the Matrovsky issue this afternoon. He may have dropped off the radar for now, but I guarantee he's holed up somewhere in the city."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Davidson disappeared after the meeting, saying he had some "things" to do. The dark circles under his eyes were even darker than his five o'clock shadow. No doubt his plan was to pass out at his desk for a couple of hours.

I decided to grab a cup of coffee in the Robbery break room. I sat down in one of the swivel chairs and start checking my email of my phone. A text message popped up from my best friend Melanie.

*I'm going to send out a search party soon!*

I cringed. _Crap_ , I had meant to call her last night. Mel and I were always close. We had met as roommates my freshman year at Tulane and were fast friends ever since. And even though we both led busy lives these days, we still kept in touch almost daily. Mel worked in an art gallery on Julia Street. She always teased me about being a workaholic and frequently dragged me out for nights on the town as "therapy". Mel was also my style guru. She was a master of dressing to the nines, and frequently encouraged me to "embrace my inner goddess" and dress to flaunt my assets. Trusted confidante, therapist, and style guru, but she was also my mother hen. If I didn't check in with her now, there would be hell to pay later.

I pressed the icon and hit the call button.

"She's alive!" Mel laughed when she answered the phone.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Mel. Things have been so crazy at work."

"When is it not?" She laughed. "And how is that delicious partner of yours?" she purred. I imagined she was twirling one of her black curls in her finger as she said it. It was my turn to laugh.

"Jacque's good. You know if you're so interested you could always call him yourself, you know."

"Oh no, girl. You should never chase a man like that one. Much better to play the elusive and mysterious prey."

I laughed again. Mel had a thing for Jacque. She'd only met him a couple of times when we had all met up while I was on duty, but she was definitely a member of the Jacque Leveaux fan club.

"Well maybe we can invite him next time we go out," I quipped. "Then you can show me this predator-prey dynamic in action."

"Not a bad idea, Y/N. So when pray-tell can I haul you away from work?"

I sighed. "May not be for a while. I just got attached to a special task force." I told Mel all about the new assignment.

"Oooh sounds like riveting stuff, girl. Violent crime, sinister plots, beguiling gangsters, thrilling intrigues...."

I laughed. "You always make things sound much more glamorous than they are, Mel."

"That's the life we deserve, honey. Glamourous and sensational. Well please be careful, Y/N. And keep me updated with all the juicy details. And say hi to the handsome Mr. Leveaux for me."

I smiled. "Will do sweetheart. Talk to you soon."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I was sitting at my desk chatting with Jacque when a bleary-eyed Davidson finally appeared in the Robbery office shortly after 10am. Miss Belinda silently eyed Davidson disapprovingly as he passed her.

"You really gotta go with this schmuck today?" Jacque said in an undertone. "He looks like he just rolled outta bed."

I shrugged, smirking. "Behave, Jacque."

"Heya Davidson!" Jacque called as he approached. "What happened to you? Looks like you had a late night, brother."

"Huh? Yeah things have been...uh...busy," he muttered distractedly. "You ready to go, Y/L/N?"

"Yeah, sure thing." I cast an amused glance at Jacque as I grabbed my dress jacket from the back of my chair and slipped it on. "Let's roll."

"You kids be careful now," Jacque smirked in reply. "You sure you're gonna be okay there, Davidson? You need a coffee? Maybe an energy shot?"

Davidson shot him an annoyed look. "Thanks for your concern, Leveaux."

Jacque smiled coolly. "Just looking out for you, brother. You be sure to keep an eye on our girl, hear?"

Davidson didn't reply and started walking to the elevator. I shook my head at Jacque. "You're such a bully," I teased.

"Nah, nah darlin. Just making sure he knows I got my eye on him."

Miss Belinda gave a snort of derision. "Mmhmm. That sloppy bastard gives you any problems, you just let me know."

I laughed. "Thank you Mom. And thank you Dad."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I caught up with Davidson down in the lobby. "We can take my Crown Vic," he said as we walked out into the bright daylight. "Better let me take the lead on this interview. I've got a lot of experience dealing with these type of guys."

I cast a sideways glance at him. _Great_. Not only was Detective Sullen an apparent strip club fiend, but he was also an apparent condescending braggart. _I mean really?_ I'd only spent the last two years as a detective interviewing all species of n'er-do-wells with criminal records a mile long.

I decided on the tactful approach. I really didn't feel like getting in a pissing match with this blowhard. "Be my guest," I replied coolly as I opened the passenger door. "Somehow I doubt that a suspected Russian gangster is going to be very forthcoming with any information."

The subtle sarcasm was clearly lost on him. He smirked as he started the engine. "Nah, I think we'll get something. You just gotta know how to handle these guys, Y/N. Believe me, I know how to crack them. They all say they're not gonna talk until I'm done with them."

I rolled my eyes as I sat down in the seat. _Is this guy for real?_ _Christ, I really have been spoiled having Jacque as a partner_. _And this car. Ick_. It reeked of a noxious combination of stale cigarette smoke and spilled booze. _Please tell me that's not stripper glitter on the armrest_. I sighed inwardly. _I can't wait to get this over with._

It was a mercifully short drive to the Warehouse District. The Samovar building was situated at the corner of Tchoupitoulas and Girod Street. Like many of the other old warehouses in the area, it loomed like a moldering headstone over the street. I opened my door and stepped out onto the cobblestone street, scanning the building. The large dust-clouded windows on the lower floors gave no clue to the contents within. It was oddly unassuming and quiet for a business. There were large industrial loading bay doors to the right where men in coveralls were unloading wooden crates onto pallets. A metal sign swung lazily in the breeze from the wrought iron gate around the front door: _Samovar. Purveyors of Fine Russian Imports._

Davidson stepped up the large metal front door and pressed the buzzer. Within moments we were greeted by the sight a gargantuan man with shiny bald head at the door. Shaped like a boulder and clad in dark suit, he looked like an overgrown undertaker. His dark mustache twitched suspiciously at the sight of us. "Vat do you vant?" he grumbled, his accent thick.

Davidson flashed his badge importantly. "New Orleans Police. We're here to see Mr. Itchenko."

Boulder narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Itchenko is no here," he muttered gruffly and moved to close the door.

Davidson wedged his foot in the door jamb. "You tell Mr. Itchenko that we are here about a homicide. Believe me buddy, he will want to speak to us."

Boulder narrowed his dark eyes skeptically. "You vill wait here." He slunk into the warehouse and out of sight.

We stood idly on the street for a few minutes. Davidson smirked smugly. "You see? You just gotta know how to talk to these people."

I resisted the urge to laugh out loud and coughed. "No doubt. You do have a gift."

My sarcasm sailed over his head once again. Davidson squared his shoulders imperiously. "Yeah it's a skill. When you interrogate enough dirtbags over the years, you start to..."

Boulder reappeared in the doorway and I was thankfully spared from Davidson's undoubtedly vainglorious response. "You vill follow me please."

We stepped into the huge open space within. Everywhere were huge pallets of crates stacked nearly to the ceiling. Many of them were stamped in Cyrillic texts that I didn't know. I saw a row of offices along the far wall. As we rounded a corner, there was a group of men sitting around a long table chatting lowly. They fell silent as we neared, eyeing us dubiously. They were not clad in coveralls like the men outside and all looked like they could be Boulder's kin. I nodded politely to them, taking the opportunity to try to memorize some of their features. No doubt some of their faces had graced prior intelligence bulletins. Davidson appeared to take no note of them as we passed.

Boulder led the way to a gated industrial elevator. I eyed it warily. It was probably the same vintage Otis elevator in this place when the building was first constructed. Boulder threw aside the accordion gate and stepped inside. Davidson and I followed. Boulder punched a button for the top floor and the elevator began its rattling ascent.

Once we reached the top landing, Boulder pulled the gate back and stepped out. It was a different atmosphere up here. Gone were the industrial utilitarian furnishings. The taupe walls appeared to have been recently painted. Instead of a concrete floor, there were modern elegant tiles and a dark blue carpet runner. Ahead I saw what appeared to be a waiting area: two large leather chairs and a glass coffee table. Boulder led the way and stopped outside a large dark-lacquered door.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

"Mr. Itchenko will see you now," Boulder said and opened the door. Davidson walked pompously ahead of me into the room. I think I actually saw him puff out his chest a little.

 _Christ, I hope this idiot doesn't make us both look like complete fools_. I breathed a silent bracing sigh and followed a few paces behind.

Inside the office was spacious and inviting. All dark hardwood floors and Italian damask wallpaper. To the left I could see large floor to ceiling windows overlooking the industrial buildings of the Warehouse district. A large black leather semi-circle couch faced the windows. To the right was a bar nook with leather stools tucked beneath a marble bar top. At the center was an enormous desk, the dark wood trimmed in small gold filigree designs.

I heard a smooth baritone voice sound from my left. "You must pardon my associate for his conduct, detectives. It has been a very busy day."

And there he was walking towards us from another door in the corner of the room. Nikolai Itchenko. He was taller than I had imagined. And _my god_ , his photograph had hardly done him justice. Christ, he was handsome in a way that should be illegal. Poised and aristocratic with tan skin and perfectly coiffed hair, he looked like someone who should be lounging glamourously on a beach in the south of France. Instead here he was dressed in an expertly tailored black shirt and dress jacket, charcoal tie and waistcoat, he was a picture of elegance. Even beneath the suit his athletic build was obvious, with broad shoulders and chest, and a trim waist.

He was looking at Davidson as he spoke. "Now what can I do for two New Orleans police...." His eyes fell on me and he paused a moment. "....detectives?"

That moment seemed to stretch strangely. Meeting his penetrating gaze, I felt momentarily frozen, transfixed. His eyes were a deep stormy green I realized. We stood unspeaking for a moment. Even somebody as dense as Davidson appeared to notice the pause. He looked between me and the man confusedly for a beat, apparently the bluster of his bravado momentarily stymied.

Little Miss Subconscious spoke up. "My, my, my...doesn't he paint a lovely picture. Mmmmm....he does look downright delicious." I ignored her.

Davidson cleared his throat. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Mr. Itchenko. We are here making inquiries about a recent homicide," he said, an authoritative edge to his voice.

Itchenko returned his gaze to Davidson. "My word. That does sound very serious." He spoke deliberately but he seemed to be slightly amused by Davidson's pretentious demeanor. He extended his hand to Davidson. "And please call me Teddy."

Davidson shook it. "Detective Eric Davidson. Special investigations." He had placed exaggerated emphasis on the word "special". _Oh for god's sake, what a tool._

Itchenko released Davidson's hand and his eyes turned back to me. He smiled extending his hand. "And you are..."

I returned his smile. "Detective Y/N Y/L/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Teddy." The moment our hands touched, I felt the strangest sensation. It was an almost electric tingle where our skin touched. It was warm and galvanic, and it seemed hold my eyes magnetically to his. I had expected him to shake my hand, put instead he held my fingers in a firm grip and brought my hand to his lips. He kissed my knuckles politely, his eyes never leaving mine. The electric sensation intensified.

He regarded me cordially as he released my hand. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Please do have a seat." He gestured to two leather chairs in front of the desk.

I moved to a chair and sat down. I crossed my legs and subtly tugged on the hem of my skirt. For some reason I felt strangely self-conscious as if I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. He moved to other side of the desk and seated himself at the high-backed leather chair. He looked into my eyes once again, a small smile still on his lips.

Davidson took the chair next to mine, adopting a portentous posture. He pulled a small photograph from his jacket, a close-up of the face of our Russian John Doe. He placed it on the desk and slid it towards Itchenko. "We recovered a body from the river yesterday, Mr. Itchenko. A Russian. We haven't been able to identify him yet, and he doesn't seem to be a local. Do you recognize him?"

Itchenko picked up the photograph and studied it for a moment. "No, I am sorry I don't recognize him." He set the photograph back down on the table. "That is quite grisly. What happened to him?"

"That's still under investigation, Mr. Itchenko," Davidson replied swiftly. He paused. "I'm surprised to hear you say that though. A well-to-do guy like yourself surely knows every new Russian face in town," he sneered. "And I imagine you've seen a fair share of violent ends in your time."

I cringed inwardly. _Oh god this fucking idiot. He's about as subtle as a train wreck. This is not going to end well._

I saw a palpable shift in Itchenko's expression. The handsome features transformed seamlessly from polite interest to forbidding disdain. "I fail to see your logic, Detective Davidson." His voice was lower now and full of quiet menace. "I am recently arrived in this city to take the mantle of this company. I am a businessman. A businessman in a very affluent trade. I don't see how I could ever have association with the kind of man who met such an apparently savage demise."

Davidson pushed recklessly on. "I find that very hard to believe, Mr. Itchenko. I'd bet these kind of things are very common in your 'trade' as you say." He smirked darkly.

I closed my eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake."

When I opened them both men had turned to me in apparent surprise. _Oh fuck. Did I just say that out loud? Oh my god. Damage control asap!_

I cleared my throat. Davidson was looking at me, his face horror struck. I turned my eyes to Itchenko. His contemptuous expression had vanished. He was watching me curiously with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

I cleared my throat again. "Please forgive my rather...." I glanced at Davidson. "...obtuse associate, Mr. Itchenko. I think what he meant to say, albeit very poorly, was that a successful man such as yourself no doubt has made many contacts in the Russian community here." _Okay I think I'm recovering fairly smoothly._ "What you can't see in the photograph is that our victim was dressed quite nicely. It's not often we find a homicide victim in a three-piece suit. We know very little about him at this point, but we are hazarding a guess that he was in the city in reference to some kind of business matter. We were hoping that even if you didn't recognize him, perhaps you could steer us in the direction of someone else who could possibly assist us. Perhaps a business acquaintance who was soliciting for new employees?"

I was still mortified about my careless slip, but I thought I recovered myself quite tactfully. Itchenko was still watching me steadily, appraising me. A small mysterious smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I appreciate your candor, Detective. It is quite refreshing. As it happens I cannot immediately think of any acquaintance who might assist you..." He tilted his head slightly, the small smile widening. "But it would be my pleasure to look into the matter for you."

Davidson remained silent, thank god. I smiled. "You are very kind, Mr. Itchenko. I would greatly appreciate any help you can offer."

"I would look forward to assisting you. In any way that I can, Detective Y/L/N." That small smile again.

Little Miss Subconscious was smirking. "I think Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous is flirting with you, dearest," she declared in a sing-song voice.

I banished her image from my mind as I stood up from my chair. "That is very...generous of you, Mr. Itchenko."

He rose also and stepped out from behind the desk. "Not at all. Do you perhaps have a card?"

"Of course." I retrieved one of my business cards from the pocket of my dress jacket and handed it to him. Our fingers brushed. Again I felt that skim of electric current breezing over my skin. _Seriously what the hell is that?_

Itchenko looked down at the card. "Detective Y/N Y/L/N. Robbery division. Robberies and homicides? They certainly do keep you busy at headquarters, don't they?"

I smiled. "They certainly do. Thank you for your time, Teddy."

"Of course, Detective. It was a delight to meet you." His held my gaze as he smiled. He didn't even glance at Davidson. Davidson meanwhile had risen from his seat looking more sullen than ever. He said nothing as he turned and walked to the door.

"And you," I replied. "Until next time, Teddy."

"I certainly hope there will be, Detective," he smiled.

 _Oh yeah, he was definitely flirting_. I suddenly became aware of how close we were standing. _Intimate distance._ That's what they called it in interrogation training. I caught the subtle hint of some luxurious cologne that I refused to allow myself to savor too deeply.

He took my hand. Again I felt that strange buzzing vibration through my fingertips. The sensation flared as he once again brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed them. The gesture felt different this time, more....personal. Meeting his gaze, I again felt strangely bewitched, unable to pull my eyes away. Neither could he apparently. It was as if time had slowed down, the moment captured and vibrating in a span of silence as his deep green eyes searched mine.

 _I need to get out of here_. I felt off-kilter, somehow exposed in that moment of intimate connection. I smiled confidently, belying the tension that was writhing inside. A small smile curved his mouth in reply.

"Do svidanya, Teddy." I was grateful that the words came out steadily.

His smiled widened. "Do svidanya, Detective," he replied, his voice softer and an octave lower than before.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Davidson was already in the car when I stepped outside. Opening the passenger door, I sighed inwardly as I sat down inside.

He was stoically silent most of the way back to headquarters, but he seemed to be stewing all the while. When we pulled into the parking lot, he could apparently no longer contain himself.

"That was totally fucked!" he burst out suddenly. "And what the fuck was with that 'oh for fuck's sake', huh? I mean what the hell! There I am trying to grill the guy, and next thing I know you've got him making googly eyes at you. Christ, you might as well have just sat in his lap!"

"Oooh now there's an idea...wouldn't that have been lovely," Little Miss Subconscious purred.

The image rose involuntarily into my mind. Sitting in Itchenko's lap and straddling him. Tugging the tie loose from his neck. His hands caressing my knees, dipping underneath my skirt and slowly moving up to my thighs. I floundered a moment, temporarily inflamed by that provocative mental image. _Jesus Y/N, get a grip._

Anger quickly replaced my inarticulate pause. "Really, you fucking idiot? Grill him? Did you really expect a suspected Russian gangster to just start spilling his guts? And to you of all people? Your interview skills couldn't have been any clumsier if you had just walked in and demanded a goddamn confession!"

Davidson looked at me in surprise, clearly not expecting such a venomous response.

I wasn't done. "I already knew walking in there, he was gonna give us nothing. But maybe with a little motherfucking finesse we could at least hope he's let some tidbit of information slip. You're fucking lucky I was there to smooth over your disaster of an interview."

Davidson mouthed silently, looking like a fish out of water. I didn't wait for his reply. I got out of the car and walked fuming to the front lobby.

As I reached the door, Jacque was pushing it open. "Hey girl what's...." He stopped. I must have looked like boiling hell in heels. His brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"Long story Jacque. C'mon, let's go upstairs and get some coffee."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

When I finished telling Jacque the story, he laughed out loud. "Serves that asshole right. That's my girl! Don't take no shit from nobody."

I smiled and shook my head. "It was a complete catastrophe, Jacque. My first day on this assignment and the drama has already begun."

Jacque grinned. "Don't even sweat it, darlin'. At least now that prick knows he can't mess with you."

I laughed. "Yeah, there is that." I took a sip of my coffee and leaned back in my chair.

"So this Itchenko guy...what's his deal?"

"Well..." I paused considering how to answer, how much to reveal. There was no way in hell I was going to tell him how ridiculously attractive Itchenko was. Even if I did ( _and was of course willing to endure the endless teasing that would undoubtedly follow_ ), there was no way to articulate the bizarre way he had affected me. I wasn't even sure that I understood it myself. "He was...unexpected," I finished lamely.

Jacque raised an eyebrow. _Shit. Was something in my face betraying me?_ He hummed noncommittally. "Unexpected how?"

I chewed the inside of my lip for a moment. "I guess I was expecting him to be some kind of brainless, vicious thug. But he was actually quite...polite, articulate, refined. Subtly formidable but also...." I cast around for the appropriate phrase. "....very charismatic and engaging."

"Engaging, huh?" Jacque's eyebrow raised a little higher. _Fuck_. He could always tell when I was holding something back. But mercifully he wasn't pressing the issue for now.

 _Time to deflect_. "Yeah, he was sharp. Dumb-fuck Davidson didn't stand a chance." I laughed.

Jacque smiled. "Bet you did though, stand a chance..."

"You would have been proud of me, Jacque. I was very diplomatic. I really didn't anticipate that the guy was going to give us any information anyway. But the interview could have gone a lot worse. And now at least I know that I'll never partner up with Davidson again on an assignment. That's for sure."

Jacque nodded, apparently satisfied with my response for the moment. "Don't worry about it, girl. I got your back. The next time you gotta go run down a lead, you just let me know."

I smiled. "Thanks Jacque. I appreciate it." I sighed heavily. "Guess I better go check in with Lt. Stevens. Oh, but on a lighter note Mel said to tell you hello."

Jacque's boyish grin returned. "The lovely Miss Melanie?"

"The very same," I grinned. "Maybe when things start settling down a bit, we can all go out one night...."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I was exhausted by the time I pulled into my driveway that night.

I didn't live in the city limits. Not long after I graduated the police academy, I had been lucky enough to find a house out on a mostly deserted stretch of country road near Gramercy. An elderly lady had passed away and her kids apparently lived out of state, so I was able to buy the house for a song. Sure it sucked to make the long commute, but it was worth it to live out in the quiet country away from the chaos of the city. I enjoyed sitting out on my porch at night in the encompassing dark and listening to the far-off sounds of the bayou: chirping frogs, hooting owls, and the occasional gruff grumble of an alligator.

The house was one-story, three bedrooms, two baths. I had converted one of the bedrooms to an office and lined its walls with bookshelves. It was like having my own little library. My favorite thing apart from the office was probably the master bathroom. It had a long vanity counter next to a glass walled shower and on the opposite side, there was a deep garden tub. It was a spacious and comfortable house, and was probably the reason in partial that I was such a homebody when I was off duty.

I kicked off my heels when I got to the bedroom and padded across the carpet to the closet. I shrugged off my dress jacket, unbuttoned my dress shirt and hung them up. I unzipped my skirt and wiggled out of it. My cat Artemis curled around my bare legs purring. "Want to go out, little hunter?" I smiled as she turned her amber eyes on me.

I walked out to the kitchen and into the living room, unlocking and opening the door to the back porch. That was another nice thing about living out in the country. With no neighbors around, I could walk around in my bra and panties without worrying that someone could spy me from the windows.

Artemis darted outside from between my feet. "Now behave yourself, young lady. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," I sighed. The sad truth was she probably got a lot more action than I did these days. Thank heavens she was fixed.

I looked out into the dark shadows of the surrounding woods, the murky treetops glowing in the pale wash of a crescent moon. I leaned against the doorframe, listening to the warbling symphony of frogs in the distance. It sure beat the wail of sirens in the city. I turned and moved to close the door when the sounds stopped. Silence fell heavily save for the rustling of the warm breeze. I hesitated a moment, my police instincts kicking in as I froze like a statue, my eyes ceaselessly scanning the dark tree line. After a moment, the frog symphony began again.

 _Christ, I need to stop being so paranoid. For god's sake, I'm out in the middle of nowhere_.

I closed the door and locked it. I turned on the tv when I got back into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. My cell started ringing. Mel.

"Hey girl, how did it go today?"

I laughed. "Well it was eventful." I gave her the run-down. "Then I got with Lt. Stevens when I got back and told him the interview was a dud. After that I was mostly busy reviewing previous intelligence reports."

"That does sound eventful," she laughed. "So this Davidson asshole totally botched this interview and was mad at you 'cuz the guy was flirting with you?"

"Yeah basically. He is a major tool apparently."

"Well then, telling his punk ass off was the right thing to do. Soooo...."

I could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. "So what?"

"So tell me about this mysterious Russian gangster. Duh!" she trilled and then added in a gleeful whisper, "Was he hot?"

"Oh geez, Mel." I laughed. _Well here it comes_. The Jacque Leveaux inquisition is nothing compared to a Melanie Brooks inquisition.

"Aww c'mon, Y/N! You know I gotta hear all the juicy details. Especially when I hear my girl was flirting with somebody."

"Hey, hey, hey now. I wasn't the one flirting."

"Don't know. Don't care. C'mon girl, spill it."

 _Fuck it. I might as well come clean_. "Yeah," I sighed in defeat, "yeah he was hot."

"Oooh goody!" she chirped. "So what was he like?"

Here came the hard part. "Unexpected," I echoed from my earlier conversation with Jacque. "I guess I was expecting him to be some big macho thug or some fiendish sociopath. But he was...attractive. Very polite, very gentlemanly. And he looked like he had just walked off a page in GQ magazine. He was actually quite...." I took a breath, "...sexy."

"Totally yummy. Excellent!" she laughed. "So when are you going to see him again?"

"You can't be serious, Mel. Sexy or not, the man is a suspected hitman for the Russian mob. Are you kidding me? Absolutely not. I have absolutely no plans to ever see him again."

She sighed. "Se la vie. Too bad. Forbidden affairs are always so exciting."

"Oh my god, Mel. Seriously? That's it. I'm going to bed."

"Nighty-night honey. And sweet dreams of sexy gangsters."

I laughed. "Goodnight, Mel. I'll talk to you soon."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Two days later I was standing the fourth floor conference room with Lt. Stevens, Sgt. Martinez, and a couple more of the homicide guys. I had spent the last couple of days making the rounds downtown with some of the other guys trying to find someone who could identify our victim. So far we'd come up empty-handed. Thankfully Davidson seemed to be giving me a wide berth.

Lt. Stevens had his hands in his hips, shaking his head in frustration. "Looks like we are gonna have to put Ivan on the back burner for awhile." Ivan was the name we had apparently dubbed our John Doe victim. "Let's shift our focus. Anything new on the Matrovsky issue?"

 _Matrovsky. I had heard that name before_.

"Yes dear," Little Miss Subconscious drawled in my head. "Don't you remember Martinez mentioned him in the meeting while you were busy ogling the photo of the Russian Sex-On-Legs."

Martinez crossed his arms over his chest. "Zero at this point. Guy just fell off the radar."

Lt. Stevens nodded. "Alright. I want to pull everyone onto this. Let's put feet to the street, people."

I picked up the Matrovsky dossier from the podium on my way out. _Might as well educate myself on the man first_. I decided to head down to the Robbery office and see if Jacque was in. Maybe I could coerce him to come hit the streets with me after lunch.

Miss Belinda was sitting at her desk when I walked in. "Well hello there, young lady. I've hardly seen you these last few days." She smiled. "Those stuffed suits been treating you right?"

I grinned. "Yes, they've been keeping me busy. And yes, they've been good. I think they know they'd have to answer to you if they didn't."

She smiled then dropped her chin, looking at me over the rim of her glasses. "Yes indeed. And they would rue the day."

"Thank you, Miss Belinda," I laughed. "Is Jacque at his desk?"

"Yes ma'am," she replied then called over her shoulder, "Hey Jackie-Boy, our girl is back!"

Jacque stuck his smiling head out from behind our cubicle up the hall. "Well, well, look what the cat drug in."

I laughed. "Drug all around town but still kicking."

  
I walked over and dropped into my chair gracelessly. "No luck so far identifying our homicide victim. Now we are working a new angle and trying to find some Russian nutcase who's possibly hiding out somewhere downtown."

Jacque nodded. "Whatcha got?"

I opened the Matrovsky dossier on the desk and started skimming through it. "Apparently this guy Matrovsky is a real whack-job. They don't know a lot about him, but they seem to think he works for some big wig back in Moscow called Balkov. Apparently they tried to tie him to some pretty gruesome murders in New York a few years ago, but couldn't make anything stick."

I thumbed through the paperwork until I came to some pages of black and white photos. They seemed to be crime scene pictures. I made a face and passed the dossier to Jacque.

He took it from me and grimaced. "Jesus, this one guy is in pieces. And where the hell is his head?" He flipped a page. "Oh, there it is." He passed the dossier back to me.

I looked down at the photo. The black and white colors actually made it look more ghastly. I saw a goateed face, the eyes glassy and lifeless. It was a severed head. A severed head on a fucking plate. I studied the background. It seemed to be in some kind of restaurant. _Holy fuck. This nut killed a guy and put his head on a table platter?_ That wasn't all. There was something protruding from the victim's mouth. Something that looked suspiciously like his own severed dick.

I shook my head in disgust. "Naturally it's a priority to find this asshole. We know he flew into the city last week, but not where he went from there. The devil you see is better than the devil you don't."

I flipped to the front of the dossier and studied the profile photo. Matrovsky had straggly dark hair plastered to his thick head in a comb-over. He had a full dark beard and a crooked grin on his pale paunchy face. Two small beady black eyes stared up at me from the photograph. He looked strangely unassuming, like he was just somebody's creepy neighbor. Not someone you would immediately peg as a psychotic killer.

"So whatcha say? Feel like hitting the street with me today, partner?" I asked.

Jacque grinned. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

The phone at my desk buzzed. I reached over and picked it up.

"Detective Y/L/N? It's Mildred from the records room, dear. There's a delivery here at the front desk for you."

"Thanks Mildred. I'll be right there." Mildred was a very sweet lady. Now in her seventies, she was one of the oldest civilian employees of the department. And she was definitely one of the members of the Jacque Leveaux Fan Club.

I hung up the phone. Jacque raised a brow. "Delivery downstairs," I said. "Let's take a walk. It's time to grab lunch anyway."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

We took the elevator downstairs and walked to the front desk. Mildred looked up from her computer. Next to her was a huge vase of freshly cut flowers: blooming red roses, deep violet orchids and tall white lilies. I smiled at her. "Is it your wedding anniversary already, Mildred? My god, the time passes so quickly. Henry always sends you such pretty flowers."

Jacque sidled up next to me. "When you gonna leave that man and run away with me, Mildred?" He flashed his mega watt smile.

"Oh you!" She swatted at Jacque playfully. She turned to me and patted my hand. "No, no dear my anniversary isn't until next month. These are for you. The courier just left a few minutes ago."

Jacque raised his brows. "Uh oh! Has my baby girl gone and found herself a beau?" He laughed.

It was a running joke around the Robbery Division that I was always too busy for a boyfriend. Hopkins for one loved to tell anyone who'd listen what a shame it was that a pretty thing like me would be single all her life.

I looked at the spray of blooms in their carved crystal vase. _What on earth?_ I rubbed one of the lush rose petals between my fingers. I saw a white card nestled between the leaves. I plucked it out. On one side was the calligraphy gold embossing "La Belle Maison". _Holy shit_. That was that ridiculously expensive upscale florist on Royal Street.

Turning it over, I silently read the elegantly penned script.

 _ **It was a great pleasure meeting you, Detective. If I can ever be of any assistance to you in the future, please do not hesitate to call on me**_.

It was not signed.

I blinked. _Holy fuck. It was him. Did I really just receive a bouquet of flowers from Nikolai Itchenko?_

Jacque rested his chin on my shoulder, craning himself over to read the card. He frowned. "Who they from, girl?"

I hazarded a glance at Mildred, who was looking up expectantly from her thick glasses. "Errrr... I dunno," I lied.

"Well they certainly are beautiful, dear." She smiled. "I just love fresh flowers, don't you? My Henry always finds the most lovely bouquets for our anniversaries. It will be our 48th this year."

"That's wonderful, Mildred," I replied. "Thank you for letting me know about these. I'll pick them up on my way out this evening if that's alright?"

"Oh course, dear." She smiled warmly.

I tucked the note surreptitiously into the front pocket of my suit jacket. "Ready to go eat, Jacque?"

He was looking at me curiously but followed me to the front entrance. Once we were out of Mildred's earshot, he nudged me in the arm with his elbow. "So....." he said expectantly.

"I think..." I said slowly, glancing back at Mildred as she resumed her typing. "I think they are from Nikolai Itchenko." I huffed out a laugh. His eyes widened.

"Well, well, well. You must've made quite an impression," Jacque drawled.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned his gaze to me as I walked in and smiled warmly. "Detective Y/L/N, this is a pleasant surprise." He stood and tugged gently on his waistcoat. He crossed the room fluidly towards me. I was dismayed to note that the effect of his presence on me was no less diminished with time.
> 
> I made no move to extend my hand. The last thing my shaky composure needed was to feel his lips on my skin right now. "Nikolai," I said evenly. "This is not a social call."

Part Two

Jacque to his credit, hadn't mentioned the flowers at all during lunch. Of course, I had done my best to distract him by recounting some of the things I had learned from old intelligence reports while we ate. I had also been doing my best to ignore the thought of the flowers, deciding to file it away for later assessment when I got home that night.

Our blonde busty waitress had done her best to keep Jacque at the table as long as possible, but we finally made it out to the street. We decided to take a look at the Russian businesses closer to Jackson Square. We parked the car on St. Peter and went out on foot. It was a typical late afternoon in the Quarter. Flocks of tourists dithered here and there, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

It wasn't until we found Thompson that we finally struck gold.

We were just rounding the corner on Rampart street when Jacque jostled me with his elbow. "Isn't that the little tweeker who hangs around that Russian restaurant on Conti street?

I turned my head. _Yep there he was, Nicky Thompson_. And he looked scared. Thompson was a wiry little guy, paled and peaked with a head of spiked bleach blonde hair. At first glance you would think he had a tic, as he was always figiting restlessly. Word around the task force was that he was a runner for the Pushkin Vors, delivering messages and handling payouts. A low level scumbag for sure, but definitely a scumbag with information. At the moment he was looking around furtively as he walked up the street with a large backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Let's get him," I murmured to Jacque. Jacque smiled and ducked back around the corner. This was another one of the perks of having a seasoned partner. We had an unspoken plan of attack, tried and true, and typically very effective.

I sidestepped into the corner of the wall of the building to my left. I waited patiently until Thompson was only about a block away and then stepped out. He caught sight of me and paused just long enough to take in the shining badge on my belt. His eyes widened.

"Little Nicky!" I smiled. "What brings you out on a lovely afternoon like this?"

It was on. Faster than an eyeblink, Thompson turned the corner of the alleyway and took off like a gazelle. I rounded the corner just as Jacque was spinning him around and pressing him up against the chain link fence. _Tried and true._

"Where you going in such a rush, Nicky?" Jacque drawled lazily.

Thompson looked around wildly. "N-n-nowhere, man. I told my old lady I was going out to get some smokes and I'd be right back. You know women, man. If it takes me too long, she'll be all over my ass when I get back."

Jacque looked skeptically at Thompson's overflowing backpack. "Nah, buddy. Looks to me like you're on your way outta town."

Thompson was trembling now. "I really gotta go, man. I can't stay here, man."

"Don't worry, buddy. You're coming with us. No doubt you gotta few outstanding attachments, am I right?"

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

A couple hours later, we still had Thompson in the interview room. I had alerted Lt. Stevens that we had brought him in and he was quite pleased. I looked down at my watch. I knew darkness had begun to fall outside, but it was a world away from the bright flourescent lights of the interview room. I was leaning up against the far wall watching Jacque work his magic.

Thompson was sitting at the interview table figiting madly while Jacque paced leisurely around him. "Look man," he said shakily for the umpteenth time, "I got no idea what the deal is with this Matrovsky cat. I've heard the name a couple times, but that's it man."

Jacque sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. "Aww c'mon now, Nicky. Nobody's gotta know we talked about this. None of Pushkin's boys gotta know you were even here today." He stopped in front of Thompson and eyed him beadily. "But you keep fucking with us on this, and I'll drive you right up to the front of that restaurant. Letcha out and shake your hand and tell it loud enough for everybody on the fucking block to hear how grateful we are for your full cooperation."

"And he'll do it too, Nicky. I've seen it happen," I shrugged. "What do you think the guys will do if they think you've become a snitch?"

Thompson began figiting worse than ever, licking his lips and tugging on his hair.

"Or even worse," I continued. "What if they found out you were about to beat feet outta town and leave them high and dry?"

That did it. Thompson started shaking, his eyes darting wildly around the room. "Fuck it, man! Nothing they could do would be any worse than fuckin' Matrovsky!" he burst out suddenly.

Jacque was on him in a heartbeat. "Why, Nicky? What is Matrovsky doing here? Where the fuck is he now?"

"I got no idea, man. No fucking idea," Thompson cried, practically sobbing. "All I know is he's fucking here, man. He's here and everything is about to go to shit."

"Tell me why, Nicky," I said evenly. "Why is everything about to go to shit?"

"You don't understand!" Thompson was babbling wildly now. "Matrovsky is a twisted fucking guy! I gotta get out of here."

Jacque slammed his hands down on the table in front of him. "You ain't going nowhere, kid. Not 'til you tell us what the fuck is going on."

Thompson startled and began to shake even worse, muttering to himself distractedly. "It's a fucking war, man. You got Pushkin's guys and Balkov's guys duking it out around here. It's all been under the radar, man. But shit's about to get ugly. Both sides have been calling in their big guns. Seriously dangerous dudes are in town now. And believe me these guys don't fuck around. And now with Matrovsky in play, it's all about to turn into a fucking bloodbath."

 _Fuck. So that's it_. _A factional war within the Vors. Apparently neither crew has been able to gain the upper hand, so they've been calling in reinforcements. And Balkov's people called in Matrovsky, a man who by all accounts seems to be a remorseless and careless psychopath. Wonderful. And if Itchenko is an enforcer for Pushkin, what's his role going to be? Does he even know Matrovsky is here_?

I pushed off the wall and walked to the door.

Jacque turned. "Where you going, girl?"

"I'm going to get some more answers, Jacque. Don't worry, I won't be long."

"Hey!" he called, but I didn't hear the rest as I walked out towards the office. I grabbed the keys from my desk as passed through the room and made my way to the elevator.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

The streetlight was flickering and guttering weakly when I pulled up to the Samovar warehouse. The building stood in long grotesquely shaped shadows. A few loose strands of hair were blowing around my face in the hot evening breeze. I pushed them back from my face irritably and rang the buzzer at the door. Within moments, my old friend Boulder appeared. I cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak. "Tell him Y/N is here," I said firmly.

Boulder nodded suspiciously and closed the door. I paced the street in front of the doorway, tense and unnerved. Part of me felt angry, compelled to confront Itchenko and demand answers. There was another part of me that was anxious. Partly because I would be seeing him again. The handsome face, the mesmeric eyes, the knowing smile... I forced his image aside and huffed out a breath. And as much I wished I could deny it, some of the anxiety was for him. Mafia enforcer or not, I felt obligated to warn him even if it was something he already knew was coming.

Boulder reappeared at the door and silently stood aside for me to pass. I walked past him and made my way through the warehouse to the elevator. It was dark and silent. The other minions were apparently not here. I pushed aside the elevator gate and stepped inside. I didn't wait for Boulder as I closed the gate roughly and punched the button for the top floor.

The hallway was dark when I reached the landing. The only light was spilling dimly from the door to the office which was standing ajar. I walked purposefully through it and steeled myself. Itchenko was sitting at the desk, looking as elegant as always. He wore no jacket tonight, only a blue pin-striped dress shirt with a white collar and cuffs, navy waistcoat, slightly loosened navy silk tie. _My god_. Even in the dim light of table lamps, he still looked as effortlessly handsome as the first time I met him. _Fuck this is so unfair._

He turned his gaze to me as I walked in and smiled warmly. "Detective Y/L/N, this is a pleasant surprise." He stood and tugged gently on his waistcoat. He crossed the room fluidly towards me. I was dismayed to note that the effect of his presence on me was no less diminished with time.

I made no move to extend my hand. The last thing my shaky composure needed was to feel his lips on my skin right now. "Nikolai," I said evenly. "This is not a social call."

 _When the hell had he become Nikolai to me?_ I chased away the errant thought.

He inclined his head, regarding me appraisingly. "I am dismayed to hear so, but am no less delighted that you are here." He smiled, searching my eyes. "What is it I can do for you? I am entirely at your disposal."

"Where is he?" I replied holding his gaze steadily.

"Who?"

"Matrovsky," I replied.

I saw a flicker of surprise cross his expression but it was quickly extinguished. It was instantly replaced by a charming smile. "I do not know who this Matrovsky gentleman is, but if you are the one out looking for him...I think I am starting to feel quite jealous of him."

 _And here we are again. The carefully composed masks, the poker-faced deceptions_. I didn't have time for this charade. It was time for a different tact. I exhaled slowly and looked to the bar counter on the far wall. He was still watching me steadily. I turned my eyes back to him and took a step closer. His eyes widened slightly as I closed the polite distance. _Intimate distance_. I looked up at him through my lashes. "Have a drink with me, Nikolai."

His eyes searched mine for a moment. If this was indeed a kind of chess match, he seemed to have been checked and unable to anticipate my next move. I caught the scent of that luxurious cologne again, but refused to adknowledge the betrayal of my senses. To do so would also force me to adknowledge the subtle heat of his body in front of me, the sight of the beautiful plush curve of his lips and the smoky green glimmer of his eyes. _Dammit_.

Mercifully he broke the spell. He cleared his throat slightly, and smiled. "But of course...Y/N." He said my first name evenly, weighing it on his tongue. "It would be my pleasure. Can I offer you a brandy?"

I nodded. "Please."

He smiled and moved back to his desk, retrieving his own partly full glass. _My god look at that gorgeous ass. Christ, stop it Y/N_.

He returned and moved to the bar, politely pulling out a stool for me from underneath the marble counter. I sat down. He reached across the bar and picked up an open bottle of Alliance 1892 and an empty glass. He sat down next to me pouring my drink and handing it to me, a small smile once more gracing his handsome features. "Did you receive my flowers?"

I returned his smile. "Yes I did. They were lovely, thank you. You really shouldn't have."

His smile widened. "Not at all. I hoped that you would enjoy them. And of course I felt compelled to offer myself to you...for any further assistance." He searched my expression. "You seem to have had a disquieting day, Y/N. What can I do to improve that for you?"

I took a bracing sip from my glass, the brandy burning warmly in my throat. I set the glass on the bar top and leaned in close to him. I met his gaze unwaveringly. _Fuck it, here goes nothing_.

"There is a war going on, Nikolai. Factions from Pushkin and Balkov are vying for control of this Vor territory. I know that this does not come as news to you."

He said nothing. I watched as a wave of micro-expressions crossed his features. The surprise, recovery, and subsequent calculation were so subtle I almost believed I hadn't actually seen them.

I pressed on before I could lose my nerve or rethink the wisdom of this frank approach. "I know that you are a Vor, Nikolai. I know that you are here on Pushkin's order. I don't know the dynamics of what's been happening here, but I do know this. Something drastic is brewing, and Matrovsky will be coming for you and everyone around you."

He did not deny it. He sat unmoving, his green eyes staring into mine. I felt tense, discomfited. I had shown my hand without knowing how the chips would fall. I saw a look cross his face that I realized I hadn't seen on him before. He looked...troubled.

As I contemplated what could possibly trouble a man like him, the look melted away and was replaced with a charming smile. He took a deep breath and reached over to me. He trailed his index finger lazily over the back of my hand that was resting on the bar top. That familiar galvanic current began tingling down my fingers and up my arm. He regarded me warmly with a devastating smile. "Do you have any idea... how beautiful you are?"

His words seemed to intensify the buzzing in my skin. His eyes were hypnotic. With a Herculean effort, I forced down the distracting effect he was having on me. "This is not a game, Nikolai. Tell me how to find him. He will kill you. He will kill you without a thought."

His eyes were suddenly alight with keen interest.  
"Why Detective, I am touched. I didn't know that you cared."

"I would prefer not to be standing over what's left of your body the next time I see you."

"And what would the New Orleans Police department care about another dead man?" he asked, his eyes once again boring into mine.

"There is always collateral damage in an all-out war, Mr. Itchenko. Blood has a way of spilling indiscriminately from soldiers and civilians alike. I don't want to see the violence overflowing, however unintended, onto the citizens of this city."

"I understand. You wish to protect your city. An avenging angel sent to smite the wicked. I am heart-broken of course. I thought your concern was for me." He smiled again.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't concerned for you, Nikolai," I said, startling myself a little with such an unabashed response. He stilled as he looked at me, his gaze seeming to travel my features as if he was memorizing them.

I felt as if his eyes were pulling me in closer to him, but I resisted the sensation with every ounce of my nerve. "Matrovsky is a psychotic. I'm sure you know this. I don't want to see that happen to you. Tell me where to find him. Tell me where to find him so that I can call down the entire cavalry on his head."

"I would love to give you the information you desire, Detective. But unfortunately I cannot tell you what I do not know," he answered firmly. _Bullshit_.

Anger surged through me. _Christ these fucking macho gangsters and their bullshit intrigues_. "Very well, Mr. Itchenko..." The words came out harshly. "I'll move on this on my own then."

I rose up from the stool, fully intending to storm out of the room. He grabbed my arm, the movement so fast I had hardly registered it. I looked down at the iron grip encircling my wrist and then looked back to his face. When I met his eyes, I saw it. Even now it is hard to describe the expression I saw there. It was as if the mask had slipped, the shutters drawn back and thrown wide. The look in his eyes was unguarded, intense and artless.

"Please...wait," he said frankly. He drew in a breath, looking me steadily in the eye. "What if I told you that the matter will be...handled."

I sat down slowly. _Handled_. And to the Vory v Zakone, that could only mean one thing. The world seemed to tilt strangely. Again I felt off-kilter and unsteady. My eyes flicked back and forth between his. His gaze remained steady, raw and candid. I shook my head slowly. "You can't possibly know that. There is no guarantee that is how it will play out, Nikolai."

"I do not operate in a lifestyle of guarantees, Y/N. I am a threat, a catalyst, I....alter outcomes."

"And so do I, Nikolai. I fully intend to find Matrovsky and neutralize the threat he poses. And I intend to do it the right way."

He smiled slowly. And just like that the expression was gone. The shutters went down, the mask back in place. "I have no doubt of your intentions, Avenging Angel. However in this instance, I don't believe they will be necessary."

"I see. Very well, Mr. Itchenko. I can see there is nothing further to discuss."

His hand lingered on mine as I pulled my wrist away. The look is his eyes was impassive, but I was almost sure I saw some kind of regret in the way that his brows furrowed slightly.

I stood up and regarded him. "Do svidanya, Nikolai."

He nodded, silent for a moment. "Do svidanya, Y/N," he said, his low voice almost a whisper. He smiled slightly but the charm in it was pale, almost rueful.

I walked to the door and paused at the doorway. I looked back at him, drawing a breath slowly. "Good luck to you, Nikolai...I hope you survive."  
I had meant for the words to come out coldly. Instead I heard a small distressing quaver in my voice. _Fuck_.

As I watched his reaction, my stoic resolve almost quailed. He was still sitting on the stool, but his posture changed. His shoulders dropped slightly, dejectedly. The look on his face. _My god_. It was like watching a battle between cool, collected repose and pained, disconsolate discomposure. He said nothing.

I seized the opportunity to make good my escape. I walked to the elevator releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I closed the elevator gate with a clang of finality and pushed the button for the bottom floor.

Boulder was waiting for me at the exit. I nodded to him as he opened the door. I stepped out to the street. I felt tingly and flushed, like the first time you wake up after breaking a fever. I relaxed a hand I also didn't realize I had been clenching and held it out before me. It was shaking. I clenched it again. _Motherfucker_.

My cell was ringing when I got back into my car. _Shit_ , I hadn't even realized I left it behind. It was Jacque.

"Hey Jacque."

"Christ, girl! What the fuck happened to you?" he answered angrily. "You ran outta here like a house afire without telling me where the hell you were going! I've been pacing the fucking floor."

"I'm sorry, Jacque," I said consolingly. "It was nothing. Just chasing down a hunch that turned out to be nothing. I forgot my phone in the car." I hated keeping anything from Jacque. But I'd bet the house he'd have a shitfit if he knew I went to see Itchenko alone. "I'm on my way back now."

He seemed to be somewhat placated. "Alright. But listen, Thompson's been booked on his attachments. Problem is we can't hold him. As soon as this motherfucker gets out, he's gonna be a gone pecan. Stevens was just down here. He said he's putting Davidson and some other guy on assignment to surveil him when he gets out."

I laughed mirthlessly. "Wonderful. Thompson's as good as gone."

"Yeah, no joke."

I blew out a breath and looked down at my watch. "Let's get some coffee. Wanna meet me at Du Monde?"

"Yeah, sure thing, girl. I'll be there in a few."

I hung up the phone, clenching and unclenching my still unsteady hands. _Fuck_. My intuition was telling me that something disastrous was going to happen and probably soon. It was almost as if the air itself was vibrating with some kind of apprehensive warning. But at this point, what could I do but brace for the impact? I sighed heavily, glancing up at the dimly lit windows on the top floor. _Good luck to you, Nikolai_.

@@@@@@@@@@@

Cafe du Monde was fairly full for a weeknight. But thankfully it was peaceful and soothing to my frayed nerves. Old Man Gibson was sitting on a stool near the street playing a smooth, sultry song on his jazz saxophone as tourists passed by and threw a few dollars here and there into his bucket. He was a cool old guy who always wore his sunglasses even at night. He liked to tell people he was partially blind, but the truth was he enjoyed ogling all the young ladies who would pass by and fawn all over him.

I took a long sip of my cafe au lait and breathed in the sugary sweet aroma of beignets that permeated the air. It felt strange being in this serene atmosphere, knowing that elsewhere in the city utter fucking mayhem was likely to erupt at any moment.

I saw Jacque walking up and smiled. "Any new hell breaking loose?"

He shook his head as he sat down next to me at one of the little round white tables. "Nothing yet. Thompson's out. Your boy Davidson and some other guy are supposed to be tailing him. Other than that, things are quiet."

I smirked. "Ah the dreaded 'Q' word. That's never a good sign."

"You're probably right. Nothing we can do about it for the moment though, girl."

Jacque ordered a black coffee from the waitress, who practically preened under his attention. As she floated away breezily, he eyed me.

"What?" I asked, looking at him curiously.

He crossed his arms over his chest, smiling slightly. "So...what did Itchenko say?"

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_.

I huffed out a laugh. "How did you know?"

He raised a brow. "Masterful investigative skills, girl. And it seemed to be a logical step. And I knew you probably wouldn't tell me anything about it 'cuz you haven't said word one about those flowers he sent."

"Your intuitive prowess is far too powerful for any mortal man, Jacque," I laughed.

"You ain't gonna distract me with flattery, girl. C'mon, tell me what's up."

I sighed. "I went over there to see if I could get anything..."

"Without me," Jacque interjected with a disapproving scowl.

"Yes, without you. I apologize..." I continued. "I told him I wanted Matrovsky, but he didn't take the bait. I guess I didn't really expect him to let anything slip. The Vors like to handle their own. I was hoping he'd tell us how to find him, if for no other reason than to give himself an advantage by putting the police on Matrovsky's tail. It was a stab in the dark," I shrugged.

Jacque grunted noncommittally. "And the flowers?"

"I thanked him very politely."

"Uh-huh," Jacque nodded, giving nothing away.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Can't say I ever sent flowers to a woman I barely know. Not unless I was in looooooove," he drawled.

"You're not serious."

"As a heart attack, girl. I don't know this guy from Adam, but I know he's a Russian gangster. That's all I need to know. I just want you to be careful."

"I am. Don't worry, Jacque. I don't know what his angle is. Maybe he's just playing the gentleman."

Jacque hummed skeptically. "Yeah, he's playing something alright."

I laughed. "You're quite the protective big brother, Jacque."

"That's right. Don't you forget it."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I pulled into my driveway that night exhausted as usual. I turned off the engine and sat behind the wheel for a moment, gathering my scattered thoughts. I still couldn't shake that small sinister feeling of foreboding. I glared at the beautiful bouquet in the backseat, not quite able to place the source of my anger.

Artemis darted outside as soon as I opened the front door. "Well hello to you too," I muttered as she disappeared into the dark.

I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter and walked into the bedroom. I placed the vase of flowers on the dresser, kicked off my heels and started undressing idly, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor. Afterwards I stood under the hot shower for a long time.

I slept restlessly that night. I don't know what I dreamed about, but I remembered vague black and white images of bloody crimes scenes, the cloying scent of flowers, and a sinister feeling of foreboding. When my cell started ringing at 4:30 in the morning, I woke up in a tangle of sheets.

"Wh-what happened?" I answered it nonsensically, still half dreaming.

"Y/L/N. It's Lt. Stevens. They found Matrovsky. It's a bloody fucking mess."

It was like I had been doused with a bucket of cold water. I sat up suddenly hyper-alert and chilled to the bone. "What happened? Is-is everybody okay?" I asked, not sure what I meant by the question.

"Yeah, everybody's okay. It wasn't an arrest. Some patrol officers found Matrovsky's body in an alleyway off of Carondelet."

"You need me to come in, sir?"

"Yeah I'd appreciate it, Y/L/N. It's kind of a clusterfuck right now. Davidson and Fletcher lost Thompson last night. We're not sure yet if that's any coincidence, but I've called in a few guys to try and pick up the trail. Martinez is on his way in now to go to the Matrovsky crime scene."

"Understood. I'll be on my way soon, Lt."

"Thanks Y/L/N. I'll see you there."

I showered and dressed at lightning speed with slap-dash makeup and wet hair tied up in a bun. I hauled ass on the interstate and made it downtown in record time. I had sent Jacque a text on my way there, no doubt he was still asleep.

When I made the turn into Carondelet, I saw that the entire block had been cordoned off with crime scene tape. Stevens and Martinez were standing nearby talking to one of the uniformed patrol supervisors.

Martinez walked over as I got out of my car. "Sorry to call you in at this hour, Y/N. Our resources are spread a little thin right now."

"No problem, Sarge," I answered. "What the hell happened?"

"Come take a look. It ain't pretty."

I nodded to Stevens as I passed him and followed Martinez around to the alleyway between two old vacant and desolate apartment buildings. There were a couple of uniform officers with flashlights walking the perimeter. "A couple guys from the Second District found him at about 4:00am," Martinez explained. "They try to do foot patrols around here late night to make sure no riff-raff start loitering around the vacant buildings. They came back here and nearly shit themselves."

We rounded the corner and I smelled it before I saw it. The acrid, coppery stench of a massive amount of blood that overpowered the stale moldering scent of decay.

"Where..." I began, but the rest died in my throat as Martinez shone his flashlight on what was apparently left of Matrovsky. _Holy shit_.

Matrovsky's pale mutilated bulk was sagging against a rusted chain link fence. His hands were hanging above his head, apparently zip-tied to the fence. His suit was dark and matted with large blots of dried blood. There was an enormous slash underneath his exposed overhanging belly, and his intentines were shining wetly in a pile at his feet.

"Holy fuck," I whispered.

"Yeah, no fuckin' kidding," Martinez replied. "Crime Scene has already finished with photos. We're just waiting on the Coroner's Office. Apparently they are tied up with a dead dope dealer over at the Magnolia Housing Project."

I took a few steps closer, watching my feet and cautiously avoiding the gouts of congealing blood. A "bloody fucking mess" was an appropriate description. But it was more than that. Matrovsky's dull eyes were wide, congested with petechial hemorrhages. He had been strangled at some point. A small ring around the flabby skin of his throat. _The impression of a garrote perhaps?_ He had purpling contusions all over his face, his lips were split, his eyelids black and swollen. He had been beaten thoroughly. His mouth was slack and there was a wash of blood over his chin. More than likely his tongue was gone. Matrovsky's drooping legs were dangling at odd angles, clearly broken.

No missing fingers this time. They wanted us to know who he was. Trussed up and displayed, his body was a message. A message to us or a message to the Balkov crew. Either way the message was a loud one.

I could hear Martinez's smirking voice behind me. "It seems somebody else found Matrovsky before we could. I guess they did us a fucking favor."

 _Handled. The matter will be handled_.

It certainly fucking was....

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

 


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt a buzz in my pocket. I pulled out my phone. Hmmm. It was a text from a number I didn't recognize.
> 
> *You look ravishing tonight.*
> 
> Who on earth could be.... Oh. Holy. Fuck

Part Three

I was finally heading back to headquarters when Jacque called. The Coroner's investigators had cut Matrovsky down and bagged him up. There would be an autopsy later in the morning. I had told Martinez that I would meet him over there.

I answered the phone, "Hey Jacque."

"I just got your text," he mumbled sleepily. "Matrovsky's dead?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Looks like the Pushkin crew beat us to the punch. Weirdly enough, Stevens seems quite happy about it. I think he feels relieved that we are rid of him. One less problem on our hands."

I heard Jacque stretch. "Well, can't say I blame him, girl. That motherfucker could have been a very serious problem."

"That's not all. Thompson is missing. Surprise, surprise. Apparently Davidson didn't do a very good tail."

Jacque snorted. "Waste of fuckin' time. Funny how Matrovsky turns up dead the very same night we snagged him. I don't believe in coincidences."

"Yeah, me neither," I sighed. Though truthfully I knew deep down Thompson probably had nothing to do with it. The words echoed in my head again...

_What if I told you that the matter will be...handled?_

What if the Pushkin crew had already been planning a move against Matrovsky and had been biding their time? What if they were prompted to make the move ahead of schedule? But why? Maybe they caught wind of us snagging Thompson and knew that he'd squeal. Somehow I doubted that would be enough of an impetus. The other possible reason was more uncomfortable to fathom.

Nikolai. He knew we were going after Matrovsky. He knew that _I_ was going after Matrovsky. And going after Matrovsky had the potential for disastrous results. Had he and his crew killed Matrovsky last night to prevent that? Had he done it to protect me in some bizarre fashion? _Fuck_. I refused to think about it like that.

Jacque cleared his throat, drawing me out of my thoughts. "So?"

"Sorry, Jacque. I'm still kinda brain dead from lack of sleep. What did you say?"

He snorted. "I said: so what now?"

"Headed back to the office for a little while, then over to the autopsy with Martinez."

"Alright, girl. I'll see you when I get in."

I hung up with Jacque as I was pulling into the parking lot. I glanced down at my watch as I walked into the building. 7:00 in the morning. It was quiet now, the regular civilian staff wouldn't start showing up until 8:00. I took the elevator up to the Robbery office and turned on the lights when I walked in.

I was definitely running on second wind energy. It was strange to think I'd been up since before dawn standing over yet another dead man on the streets of New Orleans. If people only knew what kind of madness unfolds while they sleep soundly in their beds. Bloody deeds under the cover of darkness. And now that the deeds were done, I wondered where Nikolai was now.

Nikolai. Goddammit somehow my thoughts kept returning to that man. I could still see that unguarded expression on his face from last night. The intensely candid and assailable look in his eyes, that rueful smile flickering on his lips. In those few moments, it was as if we had both showed our hands and put our cards on the table. The connection had been brief, but it was unsettlingly profound. And now Matrovsky was ripped out of the picture as a result.

I sighed, feeling both unnerved and exhausted at the same time. _Fuck. Time for coffee._

I was just stirring in the cream and sugar when my cell started ringing.

"Hey," Martinez said when I answered. "The pathologist is bumping us up in the line. She can get started as soon as you get here."

"Sure thing, Sarge. I'm on my way."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

The taps of my heels echoed loudly in the autopsy suite as I walked around the metal table containing the shell of what remained of Victor Matrovsky.

Dr. Roarke had begun as soon as I arrived. Now Matrovsky was spread open for our view. I took a shallow breath, the inside of my nose burning slightly with the odor of bleach that permeated the air.

There had not been any real surprises during the autopsy, save one. Just to the right of the gash that had spilled his guts onto that dirty alleyway ground was a word carved into Matrovsky's flesh: свиньи. It only took a brief Google search to find out what it meant. _Pig_.

Dr. Roarke stripped off her outer layer of gloves and pulled down her mouth covering. "Your observations were correct, Detective. Asphyxiation by strangulation appears to the primary cause of death. The petechial hemorrhages in the eyes, the fractured hyoid...it appears that it was the result of a combination of both manual strangulation and the use of an object like a garrote."

She pointed to the the mass of purple blotches over Matrovsky's face and torso. "The massive amount of bruising and fractures all over the body were antemortem, but there is no indication of any severe internal bleeding. The tongue is missing, apparently hacked out. Also before death, as there is a significant amount of blood visible in the esophagus and stomach. The evisceration though certainly messy, appears to have been done postmortem. Typical Russian gangster stuff, huh? First you suffer, then you die."

Martinez nodded. "Believe me. We are not mourning this loss."

Dr. Roarke smiled. "So I've heard. Helluva way to start the weekend though. I'll let you know as soon as my final report is done. Toxicology results should be done by the end of next week."

I returned her smile. "Thanks, Doc."

  
@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

The next two weeks had been fairly dull. With Matrovsky dead, the task force had settled down a bit. It seemed the Balkov crew had decided to lay low and lick their wounds. No bodies had turned up. Crime stats had dropped back to acceptable levels. Patrol recaps all seemed to indicate an eerie calm. I had been spending more time with Jacque trying to close out old robbery cases than with any task force assignments. Lt. Stevens had been more than happy to let us all start going back to our regular duties in the apparent lull.

Summer had drifted seamlessly into fall. The air had become more crisp and cool with the chill of autumn moving in. Everything seemed to be preternaturally peaceful. That probably couldn't be a good sign.

I was leaning back in my chair at my desk, sorting through some old photo lineups from a case back in July while Jacque wadded up papers into little balls and took aim at the trash basket.

"You look tense, kid," Jacque smiled and bounced a wad of paper off my desktop.

I smirked. "I dunno, Jacque. I guess I'm not used to being so idle."

"Hey, don't knock it girl. I'm sure it won't be long before the chaos begins again. Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Yeah I guess so," I sighed. The days had been dragging by. More than once my thoughts had drifted back to Nikolai, wondering what he had been doing. With the power dynamics tipped in the Pushkin crew's favor, I expected that there was probably quite a bit going on behind the scenes.

But as it always is, when you speak of the devil he has a customary habit of making an appearance.

Miss Belinda walked over with an armful of mail. "You've got a package here, young lady," she smiled.

"Thank you, Miss Belinda," I grinned as she placed a seemingly nondescript brown box on my desk. I picked it up a looked at the return label: _Samovar. Holy fuck._

My surprise must have been evident on my face as Miss Belinda walked back to her desk. Jacque stopped mid-shot with a wadded ball in his hand and looked at me perplexedly. "What's up?"

"Uh..." I replied lamely.

He reached across the desk and snatched the package from my hand. He looked down at the label. "You gotta be kidding." He pulled his pocketknife from his pants pocket and began to slice it open roughly.

"Easy there, big brother," I laughed.

He shot me a withering look as he ripped it open. Inside was a smaller box elegantly wrapped in black paper. He handed it to me. "So what has ' _boyfriend_ ' sent now?" he smirked.

"Christ, will you please keep your voice down," I hissed. I carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing a beautiful dark red velvet box. I lifted the lid. _Wow_.

Inside was a small glittering egg-shaped figurine. It looked like a black Faberge, crusted in dark sparkling jewels. On its face was a painted scene, a small ballerina with long folded wings like an angel. I saw a little golden clasp at the top and pulled it open. The tinkling music of Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" sounded from inside. It was exquisite. _Wow_. There was a note inside. I pretended I hadn't seen it.

"My, my..." Jacque drawled. "Boyfriend has expensive tastes."

"Very funny," I hissed again, closing the clasp and placing the egg carefully back in its box. "Can we please not mention this to absolutely anyone?"

Jacque puts his hands up, shaking his head. "Not a peep from me, girl."

"Change of topic. Immediately," I said tucking the box into a drawer of my desk. "We are going out this weekend. I've tried my damnedest to put Mel off but she refuses to be swayed," I smiled.

Jacque grinned. "The lovely Miss Melanie. Do tell."

I was relieved he had taken the redirection bait so quickly. "Yep, apparently she has succeeded in getting our names on the list for The Metropolitan on Saturday night."

The Metropolitan was a very swanky new club downtown not far from Harrah's casino. And like every new upscale club in town, it had quickly become very exclusive and damned near impossible to get into.

"Sounds like a plan," Jacque smiled. "I am honored you girls decided to include me."

I laughed. "Wouldn't be the same without you."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I read the note when I got home that night.

**_Hoping that you are doing well, Avenging Angel.  
\- N_ **

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Saturday night had come quickly. Mel had called me about two dozen times during the week to confirm our plans and threaten me with excruciating bodily harm if I tried to back out.

"And dammit, you better dress sexy, girl. If you show up looking like a bag lady, I will beat you to death with my stilettos!" she had cajoled last night.

So here I was, staring at myself in the mirror and hoping I was up to par. I had decided to wear my best jeans, the ones that were skin tight and made my butt look extra perky. I wore a lacy black camisole under a thin half-unbuttoned tight grey cardigan sweater top and topped off the look with my sexy knee-high black boots with the high heels. I decided to leave my hair down and curl it here and there, a la Disney princess. I kept my makeup light, but with sexy cat eye eyeliner and long mascaraed lashes.

 _Damn, I think I clean up pretty damn good_.

Little Miss Subconscious was smiling darkly. "You look mouth-watering, dearest. Too bad that Mr. Tall, Dark and Delicious can't see you now."

I scowled internally at her.

As if on cue, my cell started ringing. Mel, of course.

"You ready, honey? You better be looking hot!" she giggled when I answered.

"I think I am more than acceptable, darling," I laughed. "I'm on my way out. Jacque is gonna meet us there."

"Oooh excellent! Alright, girl hurry up. I'll be waiting!"

When I made it downtown, I parked my car in the Harrah's garage and walked down to the street. Now that it was dark, it had gotten quite chilly outside. _Crap, I should have brought a jacket._ I tucked my wallet, keys and phone into my pocket and took the stairs down to the street. Jacque was waiting by the corner dressed in a black polo, jeans, and leather jacket.

"Well, well, well," he smiled. "Look who's on the prowl tonight."

I laughed. "If that is your way of saying I look nice tonight, then thank you."

He grinned. "Absolutely. I can see I'm gonna have to make sure nobody tries to snatch you up and run off with you."

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes. "C'mon Mel's gonna be waiting."

We crossed against the light and walked up to the club entrance. There was a wavy blue neon sign glimmering over the door. _The Metropolitan_. There was a huge crowd of people standing in lines outside the glass double doors. Two bouncers were standing behind long velvet ropes.

"Y/N!" I heard Mel call from the crowd. She stepped out to meet us. _Oh yeah, she had definitely dressed with Jacque in mind tonight_. She had on a tight red strapless dress with a scandalously short skirt and stilettos heels. I thought Jacque's eyes were going to pop out of his head.

She hugged me tightly and then held me at arms length for inspection. "Very good, Y/N! You see? Dressing sexy isn't hard."

"Certainly not for you," I smiled. "Don't you think so, Jacque? Doesn't Mel look gorgeous?"

I think I actually saw him blush a little. He smiled. "She certainly knows how to take a guy's breath away."

"It's nice to see you too, Mr. Leveaux." Mel practically purred, kissing him on the cheek.

_Oh lord, the predator-prey dynamic begins._

"C'mon you two! The night awaits!" Mel giggled, grabbing both mine and Jacque's hands. We walked to the front door past the envious looks of all the poor souls waiting in line. Mel gave our names to one of the bouncers, who checked his list and nodded. He unclasped the rope and we walked inside.

The club was enormous inside. "Flex" by Fifth Harmony was thumping loudly on the speakers. The entire room was dark and bathed in strobing colorful lights. There was a small crowd on the huge dance floor in the middle of the room, and on every side were long bar counters full of people. The dj booth was an island in the middle of the floor. Near the back of the club was a dimly lit alcove of tables and couches. Up above was a second floor surrounded by a balcony that overlooked the dance floor. It too had little nooks of tables and couches. It was full of people also, but it was impossible to make out any shadowy faces in the all the dim dreamy lights.

"That's the VIP section up there," Mel explained in my ear. It was so loud in the club I could hardly hear her. "My buddy from the gallery offered to put us up there, but who wants to hang out in a place with no dance floor? I plan on getting my groove on tonight."

I laughed and spoke into her ear in reply. "Oh I bet you do, girl. Jacque's not gonna know what hit him."

She winked and dragged me and Jacque to the nearest bar counter.

"Drinks, ladies?" Jacque called out.

In no time at all, the music and flashing lights became infectious. After a couple rum and cokes, Mel finally dragged me and Jacque out to the dance floor. And we danced our asses off. Funny how loose and uninhibited you can get in that dreamlike atmosphere. I had long since shed my cardigan on one of the stools of the bar. Nick Jonas' "Close" was playing, the beat was vibrating in my skin as I rolled my hips and gyrated gracefully to the music.

Jacque was definitely in hog heaven with two girls dancing around him. I'm sure all the other guys on the dance floor thought he was a total pimp, having the both of us twirling around him as he alternately spun and dipped us. I noticed that Mel's touches on Jacque lingered longer and longer and smiled to myself.

My limbs felt loose and lithe as I danced, running my hands down the sides of my body as the sexy slow beat played on. Mel had worked her way to Jacque's back, rubbing against him and circling her hips against his thigh. Jacque grabbed my hand and spun me around into his chest. I laughed. "Having fun yet?" I smiled, practically yelling into his ear.

He grinned. "I could die a happy man," he yelled back.

"I'm gonna get another drink," I yelled and smiled. "I'll be back."

I walked back over to the closest bar and ordered another rum and coke. There was a guy with black spiky gelled hair and an Affliction shirt next to me who seemed to be eyeing my camisole closely. _Ugh_. The bartender returned with my drink and I took a few sips.

I felt a buzz in my pocket. I pulled out my phone. _Hmmm_. It was a text from a number I didn't recognize.

*You look ravishing tonight.*

 _Who on earth could be.... Oh. Holy. Fuck_.

I looked to the dance floor. Mel was wrapped around Jacque and laughing. I scanned the room. Nothing. My eyes drifted up to the balcony. And there he was.

Even in the dark strobing flashes of the lights, he was unmistakable. Nikolai was leaning casually against the railing, staring down at me. He was elegantly slouched over the balcony with his fingers interlaced, a small smile on his handsome face. As usual he was dressed impeccably in a dark three piece suit and dark red tie. _Dammit that man always looked so good_. I smiled slowly and looked down at my phone, tapping out a reply.

Sent: *You look very nice yourself, Mr. Itchenko. Fancy seeing you here.*

I looked up and met his eyes. After a moment he straightened and pulled his phone from inside his dress jacket. He smiled.

The thought struck me: how in the hell had he gotten my cellphone number? Strangely somehow I didn't really care. I was definitely feeling a buzz already and it seemed to have robbed me of my usual inhibitions. Even in these bizarre circumstances, I felt surprisingly adventurous and flirty.

My phone buzzed again.

*I was up here having a meeting with some of my associates. Imagine my surprise when I looked down and saw such a beautiful vision dancing. I had almost thought it was purely wishful thinking when I recognized your lovely face.*

I smiled when I read it.

Sent: *You flatter me, Teddy.*

*The truth is not flattery, Detective. Tell me, is that amiable blonde boy your boyfriend?*

 _Blonde boy? Jacque?_ I laughed.

Sent: *Would you be jealous, Mr. Itchenko?*

*Intensely.*

 _Oh my_. I looked up from my phone. His gaze was penetrating, a enigmatic smile on his face. I typed out a reply.

Sent: *Then you'll be delighted to know he is not my boyfriend. He's my partner.*

*I am quite delighted. Did you receive my gift, Avenging Angel?*

Sent: *I did. It was beautiful, thank you. You shouldn't have. I'm not sure I've done anything for you to warrant such an extravagant gift, Mr. Itchenko.*

*It was my pleasure, Detective. You have been occupying my thoughts quite frequently these last several days.*

I smiled, once again meeting his piercing gaze.

Sent: *Is that so? Then I wish that I could thank you properly. It's too bad you can't come down and join us for a drink.*

*Why should I not?*

Sent: *I imagine it would look quite conspicuous to your associates. And I imagine tongues would start wagging in both of our circles if we were seen together in such a casual atmosphere, sharing a drink together. The circumstances would be much different if it was just you and I here tonight.*

*If it were just you and I here tonight, we would share much more than a drink.*

 _Wow. Holy fuck_. I suddenly felt very flushed, reading the implication of his brazen response. I met his eyes again. He was smiling beguilingly.

Sent: *Oh my. Are you getting fresh with me, Mr. Itchenko?*

He looked down at his phone, his smile widening.

*I'm afraid I am unable to restrain myself. Do you know that you look absolutely beautiful when you dance?*

I felt a sudden reckless thrill as I read it. This intriguing exchange making me feel both exhilarated and daring. I smiled and held his gaze as I finished off my drink. I typed out a reply and watched for his reaction.

Sent: *Then keep your eyes on me, gorgeous. I'll show you what I can do.*

When he looked up, a slow smile spread over his face. His eyes seemed to glitter with a sultry and provocative challenge.

I set down my glass and returned to the dance floor. Zayn's "Pillow Talk" had begun to play. _Oooh...how very serendipitous_. Jacque and Mel seemed to be very engrossed in one another. I caught Mel's eye and winked and she smiled slyly.

The colorful strobes turned all to red and pulsed like a heartbeat.

 _Climb on board_  
_We'll go slow and high tempo_  
_Light and dark_  
_Hold me hard and mellow_

I rolled my hips sensually to the beat, lifting my arms and twining them together. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to immerse in the sexy and intoxicating music.

 _I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure_  
_Nobody but you, 'body but me, 'body but us_  
_Bodies together_  
_I'd love to hold you close, tonight and always_  
_I'd love to wake up next to you_  
_I'd love to hold you close, tonight and always_  
_I'd love to wake up next to you_

I let my arms drop slowly, skimming them down the sides of body. When I reached my waist, I rocked my hips hedonistically and dipped down. I bent over at the waist, my ass provocatively in the air, before rolling my torso up slowly and running my hands up into my hair.

 _So we'll piss off the neighbours_  
_In the place that feels the tears_  
 _The place to lose your fears_  
 _Yeah, reckless behaviour_  
 _A place that is so pure, so dirty and raw_  
 _Be in the bed all day, bed all day, bed all day_  
 _Fucking in, fighting on_  
 _It's our paradise and it's our war zone_  
 _It's our paradise and it's our war zone_

I danced slowly and suggestively almost as if I was doing a private striptease just for him. I resisted the urge to look up at him. It was incredibly heady and exciting to know that his eyes were on me, watching every slinky movement I made. I was working every sensual move I had, especially the ones that drew attention to my assets. I continued to roll my hips seductively, twist and writhe my torso slowly to the music, and run my hands over my body and into my hair.

As the song drew to an end, I looked up and met his eyes. _My god_ his face was a picture. He was staring unabashedly, his expression rapt and heated. I smiled and flashed him a come-hither wink.

Mel grabbed my arm, leaning in and smiling. "Oooh girl, you're working some moves tonight," she yelled at my ear.

I laughed. "Just trying to keep up with you, my minxy friend," I yelled back.

"C'mon," she said, pulling on my wrist. "Time for another drink. Mr. Leveaux is making me very thirsty."

Jacque had his arm around her waist. He looked over grinning.

"Oh I bet he is, girl," I laughed.

I glanced back to Nikolai. He was still watching me raptly, a small smile on his lips.

Mel dragged us to the bar at the far end of the room. When we made it to the counter, my phone buzzed again.

*Have dinner with me tomorrow night*

I smiled, looking back to the balcony. From further away I couldn't make out Nikolai's features, but I recognized his shadowy form still leaning against the balcony.

Sent: *Wish I could handsome, but I have a very early morning on Monday.*

His reply was immediate.

*Monday night then.*

Sent: *Unfortunately I have in-service training all the rest of the week.*

This was true of course. It was time for my annual firearms qualifications and first aid certifications for work. Nevertheless it was exciting to have him pursuing the matter so doggedly. _Maybe Mel is right, the predator-prey dynamic is apparently quite effective_. His next reply was as quick as the first.

*I am devastated. You are a cruel but magnificent goddess. Friday night then. Must I come down there and beg on bended knee?*

I actually laughed out loud. Jacque and Mel looked over at me curiously.

Sent: *Very well, Mr. Itchenko. Your goddess is moved. Friday night it is then.*

*I will send my car for you at 8:00. Where do you live?*

Sent: *It would probably be less conspicuous if your driver meets me somewhere downtown. The Leon perhaps?*

*I shall be counting the hours.*

I smiled and glanced back to the balcony. He was no longer there. The predator had disappeared back into the shadows.

Mel yanked gently on one of my curls. "What's got you all smiley, young lady? Who are you texting?"

 _Shit_. I looked to Jacque who was distracted ordering drinks. I leaned in close to her ear. "I'll tell you about it later."

She pursed her lips in a smile. "Oh really? Hmmm..."

I put my finger to my lips and smiled, dropping the gesture almost immediately as Jacque turned around with our drinks.

"Alright ladies, drink up. Unfortunately it's time for me to switch to water," he grinned.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Mel and I took a cab back to her house uptown that night. There was no way I was going to drive home. Jacque had promised to text when he made it home.

I woke up on Mel's couch at about 8:00 in the morning feeling like lukewarm death. Ugh.

"Wakey-wakey!" Mel sang as she brought me a glass of orange juice and a bottle of ibuprofen.

"Ugh, you're a lifesaver," I smiled and sat up slowly.

"Hey we might feel shitty today, but it was totally worth it, wasn't it?" she said, flopping down next to me.

I chased down my ibuprofen with a long swig of juice. It tasted like heaven. "This is true," I grinned and cast her a sideways glance. "You and Jacque certainly had a long goodbye conversation."

She wagged her eyebrows. "Yes indeed, honey. I eventually deigned to give him my number after much pleading in his part," she giggled.

I laughed. "Thank heavens. It's been exhausting being your go-between all this while."

She giggled again and buffeted me with a couch pillow. "Wait, wait now. Let's not start in on me just yet. Who was the mysterious texter that had you all smiles last night?"

The events of the night came back to me in a rush. _Holy shit_. Nikolai Itchenko somehow had gotten my phone number. And we had flirted shamelessly over text. And I danced to a sexy song in front of him. _For him_. And he asked me out on a date. And I agreed. _Holy fuck_.

"Err..." I laughed. "I'm not really sure how to explain."

Comprehension dawned on her face. "Don't tell me it was the sexy Russian."

I opened my mouth, but couldn't find a response.

"No fucking way!" she squealed. "You didn't tell me you gave him your number."

I shook my head. "I didn't. I never gave it to him."

"Whoa," she arched a brow. "That is some serious Fifty Shades stalker shit."

I groaned. "Yeah I know. In retrospect. But at the time..." I smiled, "it was actually pretty hot."

"Lemme see!" she demanded and snatched my phone from the coffee table. If only I could have videoed the expressions on her face as she read through the text script. "Holy shit, Y/N! This man has it bad for you. He asked you out? And what is this gift he was talking about?"

I groaned again, this time in amusement. "It's a long story..." I told her about the flowers and the gorgeous Faberge egg.

Her eyes were wide. "Holy shit. Oh yeah girl, he's definitely got it bad. And you're having dinner with him on Friday?" She smirked. "And I thought you weren't a student of the predator-prey dynamic."

"I'm not!" I retorted. "It's all been a very...strange string of events." I sighed. "Fuck. Can I really go through with this date? I mean it seems to be a spectacularly bad idea."

"Aww c'mon, girl!" she chided. "When was the last time you went on a date? Tell me one reason why you shouldn't go."

"He's a Russian gangster, Mel. I'm a cop."

She chewed her lip. "True. But you know what, fuck all that. Just give it whirl. What's the worst that could happen?"

"A lot of things," I deadpanned.

"C'mon, Y/N," she smiled. "It's just dinner."

I sighed again. _Fuck_. "I dunno, Mel."

"Hey," she smiled. "You gotta live a little. Believe me girl, I know. Life is just too fuckin' short."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

On Monday morning I was out on the firing range at the St. John the Baptist Parish sheriff's office complex. It was me and a handful of other NOPD guys from various districts who were renewing our qualifications.

I had already finished qualifying with my Glock 40 duty weapon. Now most of us were milling around and waiting to do the rifle course with our AR-15s.

One of the training directors approached me as I was pulling out my rifle case from my trunk. "Detective Y/L/N? There's a call for you in the office."

I nodded and secured my rifle case back in my trunk. I walked across the gravel lot to the small range office building and climbed the rotting wooden stairs. The office seemed empty when I walked inside. I passed through the kitchenette area to the rear hallway of offices. As I passed one of the open doors, I heard a woman's voice call out. "Detective Y/L/N?"

I turned and saw a woman in a very sharp dress jacket and long skirt. She appeared to be about 50, with long blonde curly hair with wisps of grey. Behind her glasses she had serene blue eyes. She gave me a kind smile as she rose from her seat. She extended her hand to me. "Detective, my name is Susan Plummer, I'm a liaison agent from the FBI."

I shook her hand politely. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Plummer. Err...they told me I had a phone call."

She sighed. "Please forgive the cloak and dagger approach. I'd like to speak with you if that's okay."

I nodded. Even in the strangeness of the moment, I found myself feeling at ease with her, liking her even. I stepped into the vacant office and closed the door.

"Please sit," she smiled. "I'm so sorry to approach you in this way, but I thought it would be best if no one saw us meeting." She laughed gently. "I hope I'm not putting you too ill at ease."

I chuckled as I sat down in a chair opposite her. "Only a little, I suppose. What is this all this about Ms. Plummer?"

"I suppose I should probably tell you a little about me first," she said. "I'm a liaison to the FBI now, but I am recently retired from the CIA. I'm a consultant on some investigative projects, specifically organized crime. I heard you have recently been assigned to the NOPD organized crime task force, is that right?"

I nodded. "Yes, a few weeks ago. My primary assignment is in the Robbery Division."

She smiled. "I know this is going to sound very strange. But I'd like to consult with you about some things. Just with you."

I frowned. "Why me? Why so secretly?"

She sighed softly and leaned in closer to me. "Did you ever wonder why the Feds have been so tight-lipped about sharing information with the police department?"

"I don't mean any offense to your brethren Ms. Plummer, but I thought that was just typical protocol for the Feds." I laughed. "From what little interaction I've had with FBI agents, most of them seem to be uptight jerks."

She smiled and laughed. "That's a pretty fair assessment for most of them, yes. But there's another reason..." She regarded me steadily. "I hope I can count on your discretion, Detective. From everything I've learned about you, I'm very confident that I can. But the reason I say this is because I'm about to tell you some very sensitive and confidential information."

"Of course," I nodded. "You have my undivided attention."

"We have reason to believe there is a leak in the detective bureau. Possibly multiple leaks," she said seriously. "Sensitive information has been leaking to organized crime cartels, possibly from multiple sources within the bureau. It seems that one or more of your colleagues are on somebody else's payroll."

 _Holy shit_.

"You mean corrupt cops. Cops bought out by the cartels."

Her expression was grim. "Yes, it appears so. Naturally given that there is some kind of leak in the bureau, the FBI has been essentially closing ranks and keeping the NOPD in the dark about their own intelligence information."

I laughed darkly. "Can't say that I blame them. That's uh...actually very disturbing news."

"I wish I didn't have to put you in this position, Detective. But as I said, I've done my homework and you seem to be a very trustworthy person. You have an excellent record, you work hard and you're very professional."

I smiled. "You're very kind, Ms. Plummer. What is it I can do for you?"

She took a deep breath. "I'd like to talk to you about your contact with Nikolai Itchenko."

 _Oh fuck_.

I schooled my features into an expression of polite interest though my pulse was drumming loudly in my ears. _Oh fucking fuck. What is going on with Nikolai?_

She smiled softly. "I'm sure you read the dossier the FBI released in August, am I right?"

"Yes, we went and interviewed him about a John Doe homicide shortly afterwards. Our intelligence revealed later on that he was in town because there was a factional war going on with a rival Vor group. Now that Matrovsky is dead, things seem to have gone quiet."

She nodded. "Let me give you the inside scoop, so to speak. Itchenko is extremely intelligent and extremely elusive. Agents have been gleaning very little information about him since he's been in New Orleans. The only thing that popped up on the radar in August was a rather expensive floral arrangement sent to police headquarters. To you. Not long after, they linked him to an unlisted cellular phone. A phone that had no history of use until last Saturday. There was a record of a number of text messages to and from your number."

I nodded. I could feel a blush rising hotly in my cheeks. "Yes, there have been some unexpected things going on. I don't even know how he got my number. It's uh...unusual for me to have this kind of interaction with a person I've essentially been investigating. I imagine you're here today to warn me that I need to cut it off." I met her gaze steadily.

She bit her lip. "Not exactly."

I looked at her curiously.

She smiled. "Please let me explain. I can't begin to describe how unusual of a situation this is. Your interaction with him is completely unlike anything I've seen from him before. By all accounts, Nikolai Itchenko is a cold, calculating and ruthless man. He wasn't just a Spetznaz soldier, he was a Spetznaz commander. He was a master special forces operator. Within the Vory v Zakone, he has a reputation of cunning intelligence, brilliant tactical skills and brutal violence. He is an incredibly dangerous man and has always seemed to operate with complete emotional detachment. And now.. " she paused. "Well, he seems to be displaying a completely unexpected sentimentality."

I took a deep breath. "I don't even know how to respond to that, Ms. Plummer."

She smiled sympathetically. "I know. And I know I don't need to give you any kind of warnings about interacting with him. You know what he is. I suppose I just wanted to tell you to be careful. I'm not here to warn you off, in fact..." she met my eyes steadily, "I'd like you to consider supplying us with any information you may learn from these interactions with him. If you agree, I'll make the necessary arrangements to have you appointed as a liaison to the FBI. The only people that will know will be us and your commander. And even then, your official duty on paper will be to relay FBI information to your group. As I said before, we don't know yet who in the bureau has been compromised."

I nodded numbly. "And if I agree, how will we communicate?"

"I'll send you a cellphone. You should only keep it under lock and key at work. It's probably not a good idea to keep it on you or in your home."

"My home?"

Her expression became grim once again. Comprehension dawned on me. _Fuck_.

"He's probably done his own homework on me, hasn't he? In addition to my phone number, he probably knows where I live."

She nodded. "He's a very careful man. I wouldn't be surprised if you have been surveilled at some point."

I thought back to that night on the porch weeks ago. When the frogs had stopped chirping and I had that weird paranoid sensation. _Holy fuck. Oh god, I had been in my fucking bra and panties. Oh god, my tattoo. The angel. Oh god, he was probably given photographs. Motherfucking fuck._

Ms. Plummer touched my arm. "Are you alright?"

I drew a steadying breath. "Yeah...it's okay. Just a lot to process I suppose." I cleared my throat.

"May I ask the nature of the communication you've had with him?"

I cleared my throat again. "Very polite actually...and also very flirtatious."

She nodded with a serene smile. "I see."

"He asked me out to dinner. I have a date with him on Friday," I blurted.

She smiled gently. "Ah." She squeezed my arm lightly. "I understand this is a lot to process. I hope that you will consider my offer."

I nodded. "Yes, I accept."

She smiled. "Thank you. Please don't be alarmed. Just be careful. Itchenko is a dangerous man, but as I said he seems to be acting completely...out of character with you. It's possible that he is just trying to charm information out of you. It's also possible that he...." she paused, "that he is simply a man trying to woo a beautiful woman."

I cleared my throat. "You have me at a loss for words yet again, Ms. Plummer."

"I'm going to recommend that the FBI pulls their agents off of any further surveillance of Itchenko. I will be the sole contact for you. We will keep this under the radar. Any calls will be after hours to you at work."

"So you'll be my handler?"

She smiled. "In a way, yes."

"I have no experience as a spy, Ms. Plummer."

She shook her head. "Don't think of it like that. You're just going about your daily life, working your daily job. If something comes up, I'll be in touch."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I somehow remained focused enough to complete my rifle qualification without any problems. But in truth, my mind was a whirl of distraction.

The FBI wanted me to essentially conduct my own personal black ops assignment. To be like a secret agent in some trashy spy novel. It all seemed so surreal. _How in the hell had I gotten into this?_

I suppose I wasn't entirely surprised. A Russian gangster had taken a unexpected interest in me. It was only a matter of time before someone took notice. I still wasn't entirely sure how I felt about all this. On the one hand there was Nikolai: handsome, charismatic, sexy, and totally fucking hot. One the other hand there was "Itchenko": dangerous, vicious, calculating, and a ruthlessly effective Mafia enforcer. And just as there were two apparent sides to him, I felt as though I was somehow being split into two people: Y/N the police officer and Y/N the.... _fuck I don't even know._

 _Christ_. I was giving myself a headache. I started thinking I should just take Mel's advice and "fuck all that." Put the madness out of my mind for a bit and concentrate on anything but the FBI, organized crime and the utterly compelling Nikolai Itchenko.

It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that reality reared its ugly head.

I had finished my first day of first aid and trauma training recertification at the academy and decided to swing by the Robbery office to check in on Jacque.

It was Lt. Stevens who found me as I was getting in the elevator.

"Y/L/N! I'm glad I ran into you. I have some news."

"Sir?" I held the elevator door for him.

He smiled as he stepped inside. "Miracle of miracles, I've had some correspondence from the local FBI field office. Apparently they've been impressed with the legwork we did preceding the Matrovsky murder. They want to open a dialogue and start sharing information."

"That's great, Lt." I smiled in return, though inside it felt like my guts had started to twist into an uncomfortable knot.

"Yes, they've asked us to appoint a liaison between our offices. They requested you by name." He clapped me amiably on the shoulder.

"Wow," I said attempting to appear politely surprised. "It would be a honor, sir."

"Always knew if was a good idea to put you on the team, Y/L/N. Hopefully now that we have an ear in with the Feds, they'll stop treating us like wayward stepchildren. We'll have a task force meeting first thing Monday morning and start outlining some new assignments."

"Sure thing, Lt." I smiled as I got off on the third floor. "See you Monday."

Jacque was idling looking through paperwork at his desk when I walked into the office. He looked up and grinned. "Hey girl, how's inservice going?"

I dropped into the chair at my desk. "Not too bad. I just saw Lt. Stevens downstairs. He said I'm being appointed as a liaison contact to the FBI for the task force."

Jacque raised a brow. "No shit? Damn girl, you're moving up in the world."

I laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah I guess."

He frowned. "It's not a good thing?"

I shook my head. "I dunno yet."

Jacque continued to frown as he searched my expression. "You doing okay, girl? What's on your mind?"

I cleared my throat. "Yeah I'm good, just tired I guess. So I heard you and Mel have finally started talking, huh?"

He grinned sheepishly.

 


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting steamier in New Orleans...
> 
> My apologies..." I began, "I didn't realize...."
> 
> "No, no Y/N. I rather enjoy hearing my given name...falling from your beautiful lips." His gaze dropped to my mouth.
> 
> I did not know how to reply to this. His eyes flicked back to mine. His gaze became hooded. Dark. He inclined his head towards me. His breath was warm on my mouth. My lips tingled. Oh fuck. This is it. Little Miss Subconscious had reared up her head in glee but whatever witty remark she had was drowned in the sudden muted buzzing in my ears. 
> 
> "Nikolai...." I heard myself whisper as if from far away.
> 
> His lips ghosted over mine softly. My eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. I felt his hand brush the side of my face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. My lips parted instinctively and he slid his tongue delicately against my own. He tasted like brandy and black cherries. A small moan escaped me and he responded automatically, snaking a hand around my waist and deepening the kiss. Oh fuck.

Part Four

 

Friday came much faster than I expected. I had spent the last two days in a state of perpetual distraction. Part of me was almost half-convinced that I was in a waking dream. And then I got the text Friday morning:

*I am looking forward to seeing you tonight*

Now here I was getting dressed for my date with Nikolai Itchenko. _Holy fuck_.

I took a last look in the full length mirror. The dress was black and form-fitting and accentuated my curves nicely. The spaghetti straps and balconet bust tapered to a pencil skirt hem. I adjusted the bust slightly. Yes the girls were definitely on display.

I had decided on keeping my hair long and curled, pulled back slightly from my face and secured with a small jeweled clip. A few strands were loose and fell delicately around my face. I had spent special attention on my makeup tonight. No slapdash hurry-up-and-make-yourself-presentable job like I usually do when I'm running late to work.

Legs freshly shaved and lotioned. _Check_. Freshly polished nails. _Check_. A spritz of Santal Carmin on my neck, wrists, and inner elbows. _Check_. Sexy little lacey panties. _Check_. _Not that I had any intention of displaying them to anyone tonight. But still you gotta feel sexy to be sexy right? And feeling sexy is the key to feeling powerful. Poised. In control_.

Stepping into my high black pumps I could almost hear Mel's smirking voice. "Sexy little dress AND the fuck-me pumps? Oooh you're looking for trouble girl!"

I smiled to myself imagining Mel's impish expression. Looking back in the mirror I sighed heavily. _Was I looking for trouble?_ My gut instinct was telling me that accepting a dinner invitation from a Russian gangster was probably a very bad idea. Accepting a dinner invitation from a very sexy Russian gangster was an even worse idea. And going to said dinner dressed to the nines in your sexiest dress and pumps was probably downright insane.

I blew out a breath and faced the mirror again, looking myself in the eyes. "You got this Y/N. It's just dinner. Just pleasantries. He's just trying to feel you out. Just a sociable dinner with a dangerous Russian mafia enforcer who could probably kill you with his bare hands." I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Christ."

I knew the perils of this situation, but I'd be lying if I tried to pretend it wasn't a little...I cast around in her head for a word to describe this butterfly feeling in my stomach.

Little Miss Subconscious perked up. "Exciting, perhaps?"

I blew out another breath. Yeah I guess that was it. I couldn't deny that it was excitement mixed around in that swirl of nerves. He was handsome certainly and downright gentlemanly. Not at all what I had expected the first time I met him.

Or the second time. The look in his eyes when he had reached across the bartop and grabbed my wrist had been unnerving. It was adamant and appeared to belie a genuine need to communicate, to connect. It was like we were putting aside the chess match repartee, the carefully constructed deceits. It was as if for a moment I had seen behind that wall, that brutal exterior, and glimpsed something....something unguarded. Something unapologetic and real.

And that time at the club. _Holy fuck_. I had been impressed by my own daring that night. Truthfully I should have been alarmed by the fact that he had somehow gotten my cellphone number. But somewhere in the haze of smoky flashing lights and alcohol fueled courage, I had felt strangely empowered. There was something very alluring about flirting via text from a distance, and dancing knowing his eyes had been following my every move.

 _Fuck. I'm a police officer for christssakes. A detective assigned to an organized crime task force. My every instinct should be telling me to avoid this man at every turn. But these are special circumstances aren't they? A high ranking Russian gangster has taken a unexpected interest in me. An interest that had not gone unnoticed by the FBI._ And now here I was, walking into the lion's den with the purpose of gathering intelligence.

"Ah but it's not just about gathering criminal intelligence is it, darling?" Little Miss Subconscious smirked. "You'd also like to know how his kiss tastes," she hissed gleefully. I glared internally at her.

"Shut up." I said aloud. _Lord, I really am going crazy, talking to myself like a nutjob. This is not a date_. A little surge of guilt swelled up in my chest and I clamped it down. _I'm still allowed to enjoy myself at a nice dinner with a handsome man while still effectively on the job right?_ Though I'd be lying if I denied that I wasn't hoping to at least impress him by looking sexy while I did it.

I looked at the clock on the bathroom counter. _Time to go. Fuck_. I walked to the closet and plucked my nice black trench coat from the hanger. Grabbing my black clutch from the counter I turned off the bathroom light. "Well here goes nothing,"I sighed to myself. I grabbed my keys from kitchen counter and walked out to my car. _Into the lion's den I go_.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I had parked my car in the parking lot of the hotel. The Leon was always a very posh spot downtown. Stepping into the lobby my eyes were drawn upward. A dazzling painted motif of curling vines and colorful animals adorned the graceful curves of the high arched ceiling.

A doorman in a starched navy uniform smiled at me. "You have a reservation Miss?"

"No," I replied. "Just waiting on someone. The bar is this way?"

"Yes ma'am. Just off to your right." He gestured.

"Thank you," I smiled and turned to walk to the corridor beyond.

The bar was sparsely full. I shrugged out of my coat and sat on a silk-cushioned chair at the black lacquered counter. It was cozy. All dim soft lighting and dark wood interior. I glanced at the large clock above a beautiful Grecian painting. Hercules wrestling a lion. _How apropos_.

 _Ten minutes to eight_. The barman approached and smiled politely. "Something to drink Miss?"

"Yes please. A rum and coke?"

Minutes later I was sipping idly on my drink, watching the other patrons. A couple in the corner was clearly engrossed in their conversation, the girl's tinkling laugh amusing her very attentive partner. I received a few interested glances from a couple of men at a table nearby. _Christ, if I sit here alone any longer they are going to think I'm some kind of high dollar escort_.

A hand touched my elbow startling me out of my thoughts. I turned and looked into the craggy face of a large man in a dark suit. A long scar curled brokenly over his eyebrow.

"Miss Y/L/N?" His spoke in a low voice, his accent thick. And Russian.

"Yes," I smiled, hopefully not too nervously.

"I am to bring you to restaurant, Miss," he replied.

"Of course. Thank you." I stood up and reached for my coat.

"Allow me," Scarface said and retrieved my coat from the back of my chair. He opened it and held it out for me to shrug it on.

"Thank you." I reached for my clutch on the bar and opened it as the barman approached.

"No, no. I must insist," Scarface intoned and retrieved a wallet from inside his sharp lapeled jacket. He placed a $100 bill on the counter.

The barman blinked in surprise. "Thank you, Miss. Enjoy your evening."

Scarface led the way back through the lobby. I was struck by how large a man had been squeezed into an obviously designer suit. The doorman opened the door, casting a nervous eye at Scarface and then a curious look at me. I smiled and nodded as Scarface stepped up next to a sleek charcoal colored Mercedes. He opened the rear passenger door for me.

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

We pulled up to the restaurant minutes later. A calligraphy sign painted in black and crimson red hung above the door: _Matryoshka_.

Scarface poured his bulk out of the driver's seat and walked around to my door. Opening it, he held out a massive hand. I took it and climbed out of the car. "Enjoy your meal, Miss Y/L/N."

I thanked him and walked along the covered walkway praying that neither of my stilleto heels caught in the crimson carpeting leading to the front doors.

A man at the entrance in a dark suit opened the door. _My god these Russians and their dark suits_. His lined and goateed face crinkled with a smile that did not meet his eyes. "Miss Y/L/N, please come with me. We are pleased to receive you."

I stepped into the foyer. The restaurant was beautiful and full to the brim. Everywhere were glamourously dressed men and women sitting at tables or booths. The lighting was dim and dreamy. Each dark mahogany table was lit with a small red-glassed candle lamp. The walls were paneled in opulent European wallpaper. Large paintings depicting beautiful rural Russian landscapes or sprawling city skylines adorned the walls, each one framed in muted gold.

Goatee spoke again. "May I take your coat?"

I smiled noncommittally at him, quickly placing my cool professional mask in place. "Of course."

I unbuckled the belt of my trench coat as he stepped behind me, slipping my arms out. He took it from me and layed it over his arm. I turned back to him.

Whatever he had been expecting to see under my coat, it had clearly not been this. I stamped down the urge to smirk as his eyes widened as he took in my dress. _Fuck. Maybe I should have chosen something a little less revealing in the cleavage._ Probably not the wisest move to walk into the lion's den looking like a delectable morsel.

Someone cleared their throat roughly. I turned to see an older blonde woman with a similarly lined face looking sternly at Goatee. Her hair was perfectly set in an elegant bun. Her makeup was slightly garish, gold shadow glittering over her thickly mascaraed lashes.

She set her fire engine red mouth in a grim line. "Sergei!" Her voice was throaty and deep like someone who had smoked all her life. "Mr. Itchenko is waiting upstairs. Please show Miss Y/L/N to the dining room."

Madam Garish turned her toad-like eyes on me and smiled, her red mouth stretching wide. The effect was slightly alarming. "Enjoy your evening, Miss."

I smiled coolly. "Thank you."

I followed Sergei across the room through the low din of mostly Russian conversations. We turned behind a paneled wall into a dimly lit alcove and reached a curving staircase. "This way please. Is a private dining room" he intoned as explanation.

I grasped the cool wooden rail and ascended the stairs, praying for the second time that night that my stilleto heels would not betray me and send me tumbling face-first.

We reached a carpeted landing that led to two ornately carved wooden doors. Sergei knocked crisply.

"Come," barked a baritone voice from within.

 _His voice. Fuck_.

Sergei opened one of the doors and stepped aside. "Mr. Itchenko. Miss Y/L/N has arrived."

I stepped into the room, holding in a breath. And there he was. Seated at a large dining table, looking impeccably dressed and poised. He looked up and stilled for a moment, his lips slightly parted speechlessly as his eyes took me in.

Little Miss Subconscious perked up. "You can't dress like this darling and expect him not to want to devour you. And devour you he will, if you let him," she smirked. In my mind, I glared at her and imagined duct tape over her mouth.

He recovered himself quickly. "Welcome, Detective," he smiled. He stood up from his chair, tugging gently on his waistcoat. Fluidly he drew together his dark jacket and buttoned it. A cobalt blue tie was snugly fitted at the neck of his white dress shirt.

He smiled and approached, his movements lithe and graceful. He took my hand and there it was again. That same strange electric current running through my skin.

He brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. "I am of course honored that you have accepted my invitation. You look...." he paused and exhaled "....absolutely stunning."

I felt a flush blooming in my cheeks. _Thank god for the concealing power of makeup_. "Thank you, Mr. Itchenko."

He released my hand. And here I was. Standing a breath away from Nikolai Itchenko. This wasn't like the club. It was much easier to be coy and collected from a distance. Now standing here with him towering above me I was struck by a maddening variety of things. His cologne was lovely. Cardamom, bergamot and...vetiver perhaps? The tailored cut of his suit. A glimmer of cuff links at his wrist. A small smile on his plush lips. Delicate crinkles around his eyes as he regarded me warmly. _Dammit, why did he have to look so handsome and otherworldly_?

"Please do have a seat." He led me to the table, placing a hand at the small of my back. Its warmth seemed to seep through my dress and settle into my skin. I followed until he paused and pulled out a red velveteen-cushioned chair next to his own at the long dark wooden table. I sat down and smiled demurely as he slid the chair in.

"I imagine seeing you like this Detective, any criminal would willingly spill his deepest, darkest secrets in no time." He smiled as he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down across from me.

I laughed gently and leaned close to him, my voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Is that why I'm here, Mr. Itchenko? Do you have a confession to make?"

A mischievous glint lit his eyes. "I am not in the habit...of confession," he replied. "Though I must say looking at you, if I had anything to hide I would feel absolutely compelled to reveal it."

I smiled. "You are as charming as ever, Teddy. I am flattered."

"It is not at all flattery. I am simply..." He gazed into my eyes. "...thunderstruck."

I watched as his eyes traced over my features and dropped down to my mouth.

I smiled. "You are too kind."

His eyes flicked back up to mine. "I am simply pleased to have you here, Detective. I hope that you will not mind, but I have taken the liberty of ordering for us."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Dinner had been extravagantly gourmet. Zapechonaya treska, a kind of savory and succulent baked fish with a vegetable borscht, and a glass of chilled Chateau Le Grand Vostok that was crisp and mellow.

Our waiter had arrived with tea after dinner. He placed two beautiful carved glasses on the table in intricate silver podstakannik holders. After scooping two spoonfuls of cherry varenya in both glasses, he filled them with hot black tea. I had never tried traditional Russian tea before, but it was absolutely delicious, the honey-infused taste of black cherries mingling with the smooth, herbal tang of the tea.

It had been so surreal sitting there with Nikolai, talking so comfortably and naturally. He was a very attentive listener and insisted on hearing everything I knew about New Orleans and what I loved most about the city. I noticed that whenever the conversation steered anywhere near his business or experiences, he deftly segued the topic back to me. The transitions were so masterfully smooth, I couldn't help but be impressed.

 _My god_ he was utterly charming even when he was being his most mysterious. It was hard to imagine that this was the same man from the dossier: the gangster, the enforcer, the assassin.

"Thank you for dinner, Teddy. This was quite lovely." I smiled taking a sip from my black cherry sweetened tea.

"I couldn't agree more. It was entirely my pleasure. Y/N." He reached across the table and took my hand, his gaze penetrating.

I dropped my eyes to his hand. That familiar electric tingle ran through my fingers. His hand was large, his fingers long and elegant, yet calloused and warm. His knuckles were pronounced and scarred. The pinky finger curved away from the others slightly, obviously an old "boxer's break". _When was the last time he had bloodied these knuckles on someone's face,_ I wondered idly. _Was it on Matrovsky_?

He squeezed my hand, drawing up my eyes and chasing away the errant thought. "I hope that you will join me for...how do you say....a nightcap?" He arched a brow and smiled slightly.

"Of course." I returned his smile. I set down my tea cup as he held my other hand aloft and I rose to my feet.

"Mikhail." The waiter approached and stood attentively. "A bottle of brandy, Mikhail. Two glasses. Upstairs." Mikhail nodded and retreated.

 _Upstairs? Further up than this room?_ I looked at him curiously. He smiled enigmatically in reply. "Come."

He led me to the rear of the room and up to a small nondescript door. He opened it and gestured to a narrow metal staircase. "After you."

 _Oh god these fucking heels again. For god's sake, play it cool._ I stepped carefully onto the bottom step and began to climb. He followed after me.

Little Miss Subconscious had apparently escaped her duct tape. "Put a little more swing in those hips, darling. He's got a great field of vision right now. Give him a show," she trilled. I smothered her down.

I reached the door at the top of the stairs and felt the brush of his suit against my back as he stepped up behind me. He spoke softly, his warm breath ghosting at the back of my neck. "I think you will enjoy this view. It is only fair. After all, you have given me such a beautiful view all evening."

I shivered slightly feeling goosebumps blooming up my arms, and a tingling at the nape of my neck. "You are too kind," I whispered smiling.

He was silent a moment. His breath on the back of my neck again. _Was he smelling my perfume?_ The tension of this strange moment coiled inside me. I resisted the sudden urge to lean back into his body.

He drew in a long breath. "Not at all," he whispered in reply. "It is true." He reached past me and turned the knob.

The door opened to what appeared to be a kind of rooftop oasis. I stepped onto the tiled ground, grateful to have escaped the spell of that charged moment.

It was a beautiful view. Stretched before me were the twinkling lights of the French Quarter. The lovely architecture and cobbled roadways glowed under the scattered street lamps. A tinny wail of jazz saxophone wandered up from somewhere far away. On the rooftop was a lush smattering of small palm trees, creeping green vines, and night blooming flowers stretching from large ornate planters.

I turned and saw him watching me intently. He smiled softly. "Please," he gestured to a small garden table and two armless chairs under a garland of small hanging lanterns.

I sat down and crossed my legs, my hem sliding up over my knee. "This is very nice. I never would have pegged you for a romantic, Teddy," I teased.

He pulled his chair close to me and sat down. "I thought that you might enjoy it. It is quite peaceful." He smiled. "I am dismayed however that you do not know me better. I would like to change that, Y/N."

I once more found myself drawn magnetically into his gaze. A cold breeze wafted across my bare shoulders, and I shifted slightly in my chair. He furrowed his brow. "You are chilled. Where are my manners?"

He stood before I could reply and and began to shrug out of his dress jacket. I watched him as he rolled his shoulders out of the jacket sleeves, the material of his shirt and waistcoat pulled tight against his broad chest and the wide muscular expanse of his shoulders. _My god_.

He settled his jacket over my bare shoulders as I was silently wishing intense gratitude to his tailor. I smiled as he sat again, pulling his chair close to mine. "Thank you, Teddy. You are much too accommodating."

"Not at all. There are duties for a gentleman."

"Oh really? Well then, I am a lucky girl."

He smiled slowly. "Oh Detective...having you here tonight, I promise you that I am the fortunate one."

Mikhail appeared at the doorway with a tray bearing a bottle of Alliance 1892 and two round glasses. He set them on the table. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you."

Mikhail nodded with a half-bow and returned to the doorway and out of sight. Nikolai opened the bottle and poured us both a glass. I picked up my glass and he raised his to mine as he set the bottle down.

"A toast," he smiled. "To good fortune...and beautiful companions."

I laughed, tapping my glass gently against his. "And to accommodating gentlemen."

I took a drink, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled. "I am very glad to be sharing a drink with you tonight, Y/N. You enjoy the Alliance 1892, yes?"

"Yes, it's very nice to be sharing this brandy with you under different circumstances than that night at the warehouse."

He regarded me with a smile. He chewed lightly on his inner lip as if weighing the decision to speak something on his mind. "I have been meaning to ask you about that night, Y/N."

"By all means."

His gaze was level and unwavering. "Why did you come to me that night?"

I felt as if I was on unsteady ground as I held that gaze. We were opening a door back to that night, those moments of candid communication. Everything said and more problematically, everything left unsaid.

I cleared my throat. "I wanted to find Matrovsky...I was hoping that you would point me in the right direction."

"Was that the only reason?" he asked. His eyes were penetrating, his expression intensely attentive.

I shook my head. "No it wasn't," I answered softly.

"Please do tell me why."

I laughed, hoping to diffuse the tension of the moment. "Perhaps after another brandy I will feel more...equipped to explain."

He smiled. "Then by all means do drink up, Detective."

I raised a playfully suspicious brow and returned his smile. "Are you trying to get me tipsy, Mr. Itchenko?"

"Unequivocally."

I laughed again. "For shame!"

His answering smile was incorrigibly mischievous. "A man can hope, can't he?"

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

It was amazing how quickly the time seemed to pass. One brandy turned to two, and turned to three. It was so unexpected how easily and comfortably we conversed, as if we were simply just two strangers on a date.

He seemed like a different man up here on the rooftop. I regarded him as he lounged elegantly in his chair. He was uncharacteristically relaxed, one arm draped over the back of my chair. Yet he still looked effortlessly composed. If he was at all feeling the effects of yet another glass of brandy, it was carefully concealed. The only thing that gave him away was the slight smile on his lips and the glitter of mirth in his eyes when he spoke.

"Had I met you under any other circumstances, I never would have believed you are a police officer, Y/N."

I laughed. "And what pray tell would you have believed me to be?"

"A photographer's model for one," he smiled.

"You flatter me as always." I laughed shaking my head.

He took my hand in his, his fingers caressing over mine. That electric tingle resonated in his touch. He looked down at my hand and then met my eyes again. His eyes were magnetic, drawing me in as he leaned in closer. "Who are you really?" he asked softly, so close that I could feel the whisper on my skin.

"Why do you ask?"

"I find you absolutely intriguing. From the moment you stepped into my office with that other ridiculous man, I was..." he smiled, "...enraptured."

I returned his smile. "Even after my horrific verbal blunder?" I countered.

He laughed warmly. "There was no blunder, Y/N. I believe you were speaking quite frankly."

He took a sip from his glass and leaned in close to me again. His expression became serious. "The night you arrived back at my office, I couldn't have been more surprised. Intensely pleased, but surprised nonetheless. And you began to speak, so candidly and so brazenly. I found myself...unmanned. I almost imagined that some dark god had placed you before me to test me."

I laughed, arching a brow. "To test you for what?"

He shook his head unspeaking, smiling enigmatically.

 _What on earth did he mean_? I looked at him curiously but he did not reply. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. That galvanic tingle flared until he released it from his grip. "Another drink I think," he smiled.

He poured us both another glass of brandy. I no longer felt the chill in the breeze and slipped out of his jacket, letting it slide over my bare shoulders. The brandy was pooling warmly in my stomach and I felt the telltale flush spreading fluidly in my limbs. _I need to slow down_.

He took a drink from his glass, and I chastised myself silently as my gaze fell once again over his handsome features. The hard edge of his jawline, the curve of his lips, the compelling crinkles around his eyes as he smiled. The flushed feeling intensified.

He trailed a long finger along the rim of his glass and placed it on the table. He was apparently feeling the same warmth and began to loosen his tie. My eyes fell to his throat.

He unbuttoned two buttons at his collar, his tie now hanging loosely at his neck. A black mark was barely visible in the small patch of exposed skin below his throat. _A tattoo_.

I was seized by the unbidden urge to see it, to touch it. My hand had reached out before I even realized it had moved. He stilled, watching me intently. His gaze was poring into mine before I dropped my eyes, my finger tracing lightly over his throat and into the open vee of his dress shirt.

His skin was warm and I gently pushed aside the crisp collar of his shirt exposing the tattoo.

A dagger. _Enforcer. Assassin. Killer_.

And I knew further along his chest, still hidden under this elegant white shirt, would be two eight-pointed Russian stars. _Vory v Zakone. Captain_. And on his knees beneath his tailored slacks would be two more such stars. _I will kneel before no man_.

Drawing my gaze up I met his green steady stare. His pupils were blown wide. He still sat unflinching but his eyes bored into mine.

I drew in a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and licked my lips slowly realizing my mouth had suddenly gone dry. His eyes dropped to my lips following the movement.

"You're a dangerous man, Mr. Itchenko." My voice came out in a breathy whisper. My fingers lingered on his throat.

His eyes flicked back to mine. A small smile. "Not to you, Detective." His voice was soft as he regarded me steadily. "Never to you."

"Especially to me, Mr. Itchenko."

His hand slid from the back of my chair and came to rest gently on my bare knee. His palm was warm. A calloused thumb began drawing an idle circle on my skin. The gesture was simple, unobtrusive. And yet it felt like my skin flamed under his touch.

His brow furrowed. "Why do you think this?" He spoke gently, his voice whisky warm.

I felt intensely flushed. I was suddenly aware of how close we were. Aware of the heady scent of his cologne. The tiny flecks of amber in his deep green eyes.

"We are on different sides of the wall, you and I," I replied.

He chuckled, a deep delicious sound. "The Cold War is over. The communist wall came down nearly thirty years ago," he teased.

"You know what I mean, Nikolai."

"I do know what you mean. I do not see why it should matter." He regarded me seriously. And once again I saw that unguarded expression in his eyes.

"You are Vor. I am the police. I imagine that will put us at odds sooner than later."

A dark look clouded his eyes and he leaned closer to me, his thumb still tracing slowly over my knee. "And what if that moment of...'odds' as you say...never comes?"

I smiled ruefully. "How can it not, Nikolai?"

His brow furrowed at this. His thumb stilled its lazy circles and he spread his palm over my knee. He looked down at it for a moment and squeezed my knee gently. When he looked up again the unguarded look had vanished. A small smile curved his mouth. "I for one would welcome the opportunity to find out." His eyes glinted warmly.

I smiled again. "Perhaps you just enjoy living dangerously, Nikolai."

He tilted his head and regarded me. His eyes crinkled amusedly. The effect on his handsome face was beautiful. "You know I have noticed something," he smiled.

"Oh? And what is that?"

"When you are acting as Detective Y/L/N...you call me Teddy or Mr. Itchenko. When you are simply Y/N...you call me Nikolai. Why is this?" His lip curled slightly in silent mirth.

"My apologies..." I began, "I didn't realize...."

"No, no Y/N. I rather enjoy hearing my given name...falling from your beautiful lips." His gaze dropped to my mouth.

I did not know how to reply to this. His eyes flicked back to mine. His gaze became hooded. Dark. He inclined his head towards me. His breath was warm on my mouth. My lips tingled. _Oh fuck. This is it._ Little Miss Subconscious had reared up her head in glee but whatever witty remark she had was drowned in the sudden muted buzzing in my ears.

"Nikolai...." I heard myself whisper as if from far away.

His lips ghosted over mine softly. My eyes fluttered closed of their own accord. I felt his hand brush the side of my face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. My lips parted instinctively and he slid his tongue delicately against my own. He tasted like brandy and black cherries. A small moan escaped me and he responded automatically, snaking a hand around my waist and deepening the kiss. _Oh fuck_.

The warmth in my belly suddenly shot directly to my core. My sexy little lace panties dampened alarmingly fast. My senses focused sharply. I was immersed in the scent of his cologne, the bittersweet taste of his kiss and his powerful grip on my waist.

_Oh fuck. This is bad. This is bad. This is bad._

_But it's sooooo fucking good_.

His hand on my face drifted into my hair as he pulled me impossibly closer. Apparently at some point my inhibitions had scattered spectacularly somewhere over the tiled rooftop floor. I captured his lower lip in my teeth and bit down gently. A groan rumbled deeply from his chest. He captured my lips again, his fingertips pressing into my waist.

His hand in my hair gripped a handful of tendrils tightly. My own hands drifted up his powerful arms to rest on each side of his neck. I could feel his pulse thundering under my palms.

Did minutes pass? Hours? I was completely engrossed in his taste. Somewhere in my head a dim alarm was blaring and becoming progressively louder. _Holy fuck Y/N, you can't be doing this_!

I pulled away reluctantly and his grip relaxed. His eyes opened slowly. _My god_ his pupils were so dark his eyes looked almost black. His chest rose and fell deeply. His kiss swollen lips were parted breathlessly. _My god_. _Did I look as wrecked as he did?_

I imagine that I did. He traced a finger delicately along my lower lip. It felt tender, swollen and sore. "So beautiful..." he whispered his accent suddenly very pronounced.

I smiled, internally struggling to gather the wits that had apparently abandoned me. "You grow more dangerous by the minute, Nikolai." I tried in vain to banish the still throaty tenor of my voice.

He returned my smile. "I disagree. As it I happens I find myself growing more and more defenseless in your presence," he whispered.

I laughed gently. "Do you say that to all the policemen you encounter?"

"I have never...never encountered anyone like you," he replied seriously, his eyes glimmering darkly. "And I must confess, I have been wanting to kiss you from the moment you first stepped into my office."

I smiled. "I thought you weren't in the habit of confession, Mr. Itchenko."

He trailed a finger lightly along the side of my face and over the curve of my lower lip. "I suppose wonders never cease." His gaze was predatory, drawing me in. It felt as if every nerve was still buzzing.

 _Fuck. I have to get out of here_. I was treading on incredibly dangerous ground. And the longer I held his gaze, the more it felt like that ground was shifting. Like a tide was pulling the sand away from my feet.

I swallowed, trying to steel the raucous reaction my senses were still experiencing in his close proximity. "I think..." I smiled coyly. "I think I should be going, Mr. Itchenko."

He smiled in return, his gaze unwavering. "Stay."

"That is probably a very bad idea." I stood up, grateful that my legs did not betray the trembling, jelly-like sensation that they were feeling. "I would likely be the one confessing next, Mr. Itchenko."

He stood also, facing me and bringing his hands up to rest on the small of my back. "I would dearly love to hear any of your confessions, Detective."

 _Christ being so close to him like this, it felt like heat was just radiating from his body. My god this wasn't even intimate distance. This was kissing distance, practically fucking distance_.

I found myself staring up into those ravenous green eyes, the urge to kiss him so strong I could almost taste him again.

I steeled myself, determined wrest away the powerful sway he seemed to be having over me. I reached out to his neck, once again trailing a finger gently down his throat into the open vee of his collar. "Oh, Mr. Itchenko..." I said looking up at him coquettishly from my lashes, "the stories I could tell."

I didn't think his gaze could get more heated. The hands at my back gripped me tighter as he began pulling me in. I flattened my palm against his chest, pushing him back lightly. "But that will have to be for another...more fortuitous occasion," I said with a wickedly teasing smile.

His eyes flashed with a devilish gleam, a downright predatory smile curling on his lips. "I can only hope."

Thankfully my better judgement seemed to be awakening again. I stepped back out of his grasp and retrieved his coat from my chair. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Itchenko. You are a very charming host," I said as I handed it to him.

"It was entirely my pleasure, Detective," he said as he shrugged into his jacket again. I willed myself not to focus on the rippling movement of his chest and arms. "Please let me walk you downstairs."

He took my hand gently and led me back to the stairwell doorway. He held open the door as I passed through and descended the stairs, entirely focused on my footing. I felt the weight of his gaze on me.

Our dining room was empty when we stepped inside. I walked to the table and paused. I felt the warmth of his body behind me and turned. If I had hoped the spell of the rooftop had ebbed, I was entirely mistaken. _Christ_ , he looked even more delicious with his open jacket, unbuttoned collar and kiss swollen lips.

He smiled, reaching for my hand again and bringing it to those lips. The chaste kiss on my knuckles was entirely belied by the smoldering look in his eyes. "I hope that we can do this again soon, Detective."

I dropped my gaze, biting the inside of my lip. "I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Itchenko. Any continued meetings would not go unnoticed, neither by my people nor your own. I imagine difficult questions would be asked."

When I glanced up and met his eyes again, the smoldering look had been replaced. His expression bore uncanny resemblance to the one he had worn that night in his office. The look in his eyes was unguarded and intensely candid. He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb lightly caressing over my knuckles. "Perhaps your people would think you are...what is the word...grilling me for information."

"And I suppose your people would think what? That I am doggedly harassing you?" I smiled, "Or perhaps that you were trying to seduce me? They wouldn't be entirely wrong about that, now would they?"

He flashed me a look of mock horror and smiled. "I am devastated, Detective. I must apologize if any of my behavior has been entirely ungentlemanly. My only excuse I suppose, is that I have been unable to stop myself."

I laughed. "You don't seem like a man prone to impulsive behaviors, Mr. Itchenko."

"Perhaps not. But there are always exceptions," he replied seriously, his voice dropping an octave, "No matter how...unexpected they may be." He glanced down at the hand that was still caressing my own, a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "I certainly hope this will not be our last meeting, Detective."

 _And what if it was? What if the FBI decided this was no longer a valuable intelligence operation? What if my own department decided that the organized crime task force was a dud and decided to turn everything over to the Feds_?

He looked up at me again. _My god_ those beautiful green eyes looked so beguiling. What if Mel was right? What if life is too short?

 _Oh fuck it all_.

Before I knew what I was doing I had seized him roughly by the loose knot of his tie and crashed my lips against his. I swallowed his small choke of surprise and pressed myself against him, our bodies flush. The kiss quickly became something that wasn't anything like the kiss upstairs. It seemed that all his cool restraint completely abandoned him. This kiss was hungry, needy and desperately wild.

_My god he tasted so fucking good._

His hands flew to the small of my back, crushing me against him as his lips and tongue warred against mine. I felt the press of his... _oh wow_...rock hard erection digging into my stomach. _Good god is all of that him?_

His hands slid down from my back, gliding over the curve of my ass. He kneaded two handfuls, grinding his hips into mine.

"God...Nikolai..." The words left me in a breathy rush.

My words seemed to inflame him further. He kissed me hungrily and pressed me back into the side of the dining table. His lips never left mine as I felt his arm reach out and sweep the contents of the tabletop aside. Dimly I registered the sound of glasses, plates, and god knows what else crashing onto the floor.

Suddenly he lifted me bodily, effortlessly off of my feet and sat me down on top of the table. The hem of my dress runched up to my hips as he moved between my thighs, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. I wound my hands around the back of his neck.

 _My god_ I wanted him. I wanted to consume him. Muss his perfectly coiffed hair. Drag bloody trenches down his back with my nails.

I felt his hands twine up into my own hair. He unclasped my little hair clip and seconds later I heard it go skittering somewhere across the floor. His fingers twisted into my cascading tresses and I moaned unashamedly into his mouth.

His kiss was searing as his lips trailed over my chin, and down my throat. I arched into him as he slowly peppered hot open-mouthed kisses over the curves of my breasts and down my cleavage. His lips moved to my throat again and up to my ear.

"I have wanted you from the very moment I saw you," he growled, his voice rough and quavering.

His hands fell to my knees. They glided fiercely up the sides of my thighs, under my dress and gripped my hips. I felt his fingertips brush the edges of my lacey little panties and he groaned, the sound deep and desperate. He pulled my hips flush with his, the hard throbbing outline of his erection digging into me in just the right spot. A soft wanton cry escaped my throat and he swallowed it in another scorching kiss.

 _Holy fuck_. My knees felt weak and trembling. My little lace panties felt positively soaked.

Little Miss Subconscious, apparently stunned into silence up until this point, finally found her voice. "You naughty little slut," she gasped lasciviously. "Are you going to put those fuck-me pumps to work right here on this table?"

_My god it sounded like a wonderful idea._

The hurried knock at the door was jarring. "Mr. Itchenko, is everything alright?" I heard Goatee's voice call out anxiously from outside.

Nikolai huffed out a breathless angry growl. He cleared his throat. "Everything is fine," he barked out roughly.

 _Holy fuck. Saved by the bell. Or the Goatee in this case_.

"It seems we have alarmed the staff," I whispered breathlessly.

His molten hot gaze met mine and he smiled. His pupils were blown wide. _Fuck_ he looked so good, breathing heavily and slightly disheveled. I imagined I looked quite disheveled myself.

His grip on my hips relaxed and he kissed me gently. "I must apologize, Y/N. It seems that I quite forgot myself."

I smiled. "Yes, it was shameful of you, Nikolai. I am quite scandalized."

He laughed, the sound enticingly gruff and hoarse. I kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth and he leaned into the touch. "Though truthfully," I whispered, "I suppose I should be the one apologizing for taking such liberties with you."

He shook his head, pulling away from me slowly and taking my hand so that I could return my feet to solid ground. "Don't you dare apologize, Y/N. You are always welcome to take whatever liberties you desire with me."

I bit my lip and tugged subtly on the hem of my dress, putting it to rights. _Fuck that was the only part of me that felt put to rights at the moment_. "Oh my," I smiled, "a charming and generous host."

He closed the small distance and kissed me again, gently and more temperately now. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. "This will not be our last meeting, Y/N," he said meaningfully.

"I can only hope," I smiled, echoing his earlier reply.

"Please let me walk you out, Y/N," he whispered darkly.

I raised a brow, looking down between our bodies to the still raging hard-on in his elegantly tailored slacks. _Holy fuck_.

I smiled and bit my lip. "Perhaps not the wisest idea at the moment, Nikolai," I whispered.

His answering smile was shamelessly suggestive. "Perhaps not." He pulled me close, his lips brushed softly over mine. "What power you wield over me, Avenging Angel," he whispered.

My eyes had drifted closed. I smiled under the caress. His lips pressed gently against mine, my own lips parting effortlessly to his kiss. And _my god_ he kissed as if it was everything within him. I quickly became lost once again in the feel of his warm mouth and the taste of his ambrosial tongue.

With every drop of willpower I could muster I pulled away, lest we quickly find ourselves in another very compromising position. He released me reluctantly, his eyes opening with a penetrating gaze.

I smiled wordlessly, watching him draw in a shuddering breath. I turned and walked to the door, keenly aware of the heavy weight of his eyes upon me.

I paused at the door and smiled. "Do svidanya, Nikolai," I whispered.

He smiled. "Do svidanya, Y/N," he whispered in return.

I walked out and descended the stairs quickly, heels be damned. I still felt incredibly flushed and discomposed.

Goatee was waiting for be when I reached the bottom landing. His eyes roved over me. _My god I must look like god knows what with tousled hair and swollen lips._ He smiled toothily. "I hope that you have enjoyed your evening with us," he said with a twinge of a leer on his face.

I smiled evenly. "It was very nice, thank you," I replied coolly.

He had apparently retrieved my coat and held it out for me. I slipped it on quickly, hoping to get away from his presence as soon as possible.

As I walked into the main dining room, I realized that it was completely empty. _Good god what time was it?_

I saw Scarface waiting impassively at the door like an overgrown statue. "You are ready, Miss?"

"Yes. Thank you," I replied, buckling my coat.

If Scarface took any note of my windswept appearance, he hid it well. He held open the door to the exit with a massive hand, and I stepped out onto the street.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Back in my car and heading home, I finally felt like I could start digesting the events of the night. I glanced at the digital clock on my dash. _Holy shit, it's almost 1:00 in the morning. Where the hell did the time go?_

Little Miss Subconscious was obviously very much awake. "The time flew by, dearest. Don't you remember? You were busy making out with and essentially dry humping that delicious man."

 _Christ_. I blew out a breath. Truth be told, my nerves were still buzzing. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still feel the ghostly press of his kisses on my lips, my throat, and my breasts. I still felt faintly tingly all over. I could feel the sensation in my lips, my hands, my legs, my...

 _Fuck_.

It was a little bit frightening the way he seemed to bewitch me. Sure I had dated a few guys here and there, but I had never been with a man who affected me so profoundly before. It was like a chemical reaction. Was it pheromones? Alchemy? Voodoo for christs sakes?

But in a strange way it was also very empowering. Nikolai Itchenko did not seem like a man who was easily swayed. At first blush, he seemed to be the man from the dossier: controlled, calculating, and unflaggingly composed. But yet tonight, I saw a side of him that was anything but composed. I saw him unrestrained, passionate and reckless. _Did I really hold the power to do that to him? To release an animalistic and mindlessly lustful side of him that he kept carefully in check?_ It was a heady and exciting prospect.

And yet I couldn't deny the policeman's instinct that was demanding for me to be wary. He was a dangerous man. A tactically sound and formidable enforcer who specialized in devastatingly effective violence. What if all of this was an intricate ruse? A calculated seduction aimed to compromise me. Either to extract information about how much we knew about the Vors or to use as a bargaining chip to extort the department into backing off from our investigation.

But still, all wariness aside, something about this connection to him felt unscripted and raw. Perhaps I was as much of a surprise to him as he was to me. Yet here I was, acting as some form of double agent. Christ, I felt like a femme fatale straight out a James Bond movie.

I was so lost in my own thoughts it was a surprise when I found myself pulling into my driveway.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I slipped out of my coat as I walked to the bedroom. Artemis was curled up in a ball at the foot of my bed. I turned on the shower and undressed. _Good lord my panties are still damp_.

Looking into the mirror above the vanity, I blew out a breath. "My god, girl. Your life is dangerously close to becoming a Lifetime movie."

I stepped into the shower, the hot water soothing and sensual. I cranked up the heat. Tilting my head back into the spray, I let the water pound into my skin.

As I began to wash, gliding the soapy pouf over my skin, I realized how alert my nerves still were. I still felt dimly flushed and tingly, despite the span of time that had passed since he had touched me and kissed me.

The events of the night began flashing through my mind. The tingle of his warm breath on the back of my neck, the taste of brandy and black cherries on his tongue as he kissed me, the powerful grip of his hands on my hips, the utterly compelling sound of his groans and rasping whispers, and especially the hard throbbing press of his cock barely restrained in the smooth soft fabric of his slacks. _Fuck_.

I reached down between my legs. My fingertips brushed over my clit and my hips bucked involuntarily. _My god_ I didn't realize how responsive my body felt right now. I touched myself more gingerly with light slow strokes and allowed my mind to wander. I imagined what could have happened if there had been no interruption, if we had let ourselves embrace the recklessness of the encounter.

In my mind I was once again on that table, my legs wrapped around his waist, his raging hard-on pressing insistently against my rapidly soaking panties. I imagined him breaking the kiss breathlessly, his eyes dark with desire. Him reaching under the skirt of my dress and dragging my panties slowly down my legs.

I let out a shaky moan and leaned back against the tiled shower wall.

I imagined him hurriedly unbuckling his belt, too lost with lust to wait any longer. Him releasing his thick cock, throbbing so hard it appeared to be bobbing. Him stepping up between my legs and shoving that delicious cock inside my soaking wet folds, swallowing my agonized cry of pleasure with another passionate kiss. I imagined him fucking me hard and mercilessly right there on that table.

My legs were starting to tremble, my breathing heavy in the steamy warmth of the shower. My climax was dangerously close, teetering just outside of my reach.

Part of me fantasized that he was somewhere doing the exact same thing in his own shower, and that like me, he was replaying the night in his head with much more scandalous results. _My god_ I bet he looks absolutely delicious soaking wet.

I imagined him stroking his thick hard cock, water sluicing down his muscular body. The rhythm of his strokes becoming more and more fractured as he drove towards his climax. I imagined his throaty groan as he came, spilling his cum all over his hand. I imagined the beautifully tortured expression of pleasure on his face.

That did it. The world tipped suddenly and my vision blurred with the ferocious impact of my orgasm.

 _I am so fucked_.

When I finally succeeded in getting clean, I stepped out of the shower on still wobbly legs. I wrapped a towel around myself and padded into the bedroom. Flopping down on the bed, I rolled into the covers and threw my towel onto the floor. I never was one for sleeping in the nude, but tonight it felt quite appropriate.

My cellphone dinged. A text message. _What in the hell? It's almost two in the morning_.

I reached over to the nightstand and pulled the phone out of my clutch purse. I looked down at the screen. _Holy fuck it's him_.

*I can still taste you.*

My pulse was beating a steady rhythm in my ears. _Wow that is incredibly hot. So I'm not the only one lying awake tonight. Hmmmm..._

Sent: *I can still taste you too.*

*What I wouldn't give to be able to taste you again right now.*

Sent: *If I was there right now, I imagine you wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, Nikolai.*

*Neither would you. I would feel terribly guilty for keeping you up all night.*

Sent: *Would you really feel guilty?*

*Not even a little bit*

Sent: *I see. I suppose I should be the one feeling guilty for imposing on you so terribly tonight*

*You did no such thing, Y/N. I can assure you.*

Sent: *I do feel somewhat ashamed for man-handling you so roughly, Nikolai.*

*I rather enjoyed your rough man-handling. The thought of it has been driving me to distraction.*

Sent: *It was very enjoyable I agree. Perhaps I only feel slightly guilty then.*

*Do you really?*

Sent: *Not even a little bit*

*I want to see you again.*

Sent: *That would be lovely. Though I expect your people would take notice. As would mine.*

*Perhaps I do enjoy living dangerously, as you say. It would be well worth the risk.*

Sent: *Perhaps so. Goodnight Nikolai*

*Goodnight Y/N. Pleasant dreams, angel.*

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

My dreams were warm and sensual that night. I remembered wandering hands, breathless kisses, and smoky green eyes...


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, smut and more smut. You have been warned. ;)
> 
> "Now, how do I know that you are not wearing a wire, Detective?" he whispered. His heated gaze was challenging, daring me to partake in this dangerous game. 
> 
> Holy fuck. This is the point of no return.
> 
> I smiled, strangely exhilarated by the reckless tension of the moment. If this was playing with fire, I was more than willing to dive headfirst into the gasoline.
> 
> "Shall I prove it you, Mr. Itchenko?" I remarked, flashing him a coy smile.

Part Five

 

  
"Hello, earth to Y/N..." Jacque laughed.

I looked up at him over the rim of my coffee cup and smiled. "Sorry Jacque, I was miles away..."

His brow furrowed and glanced down at his watch. "You gonna be late for your meeting, chere."

I glanced down at my own watch. _Shit, I better head upstairs_. It was was Monday morning and time for Lt. Stevens' task force meeting. Our first meeting since my appointment as the FBI liaison.

 _Christ almighty_.

I set my coffee cup down on my desk and stood, clearing my throat. "You want to grab lunch this afternoon, Jacque?"

He nodded, but his brow was still furrowed. "Yeah sure thing, girl."

 _Shit. Sweet Jacque_. He could always tell when I was holding back. I was sure that in his eyes, my distant demeanor in the last week was probably a big red warning flag.

As I walked around his desk, he reached out and touched my arm. "Hey. You sure you're doing okay? Your head's been in the clouds lately, girl."

I gave him a half-smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind I guess. Everything's alright though. Really."

He nodded, apparently only half satisfied. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

 _Good ole Jacque_. _If he only knew all the crazy shit that's been going on_. I smiled, hopefully convincingly. "Yeah I know, big brother. I promise if I need to vent, you'll be the first one I come to."

He grinned. "That's right. I better be."

I smiled and clapped him gently on the shoulder as I headed out of the office to the elevator.

It was true, I had been a total mass of distraction lately, especially today. Nikolai and I had texted back and forth all day Saturday and Sunday. His texts were flirtatious and witty, and they made me smile. Most of them I had read, but had not replied, which only seemed to make him more solicitous. He had asked me several times when he could see me again, and I always replied as much as I'd like to, it was probably a bad idea. He was very much undeterred. _Apparently the predator-prey dynamic is more effective than I thought_.

There had been another text this morning on my way to work:

*I am thinking of you, angel. I hope that you are doing well*

Of course Mel had called Saturday morning demanding to know every detail of my date. I wish I could have seen her expression as I gave her every blow by blow. She had squeed so loudly into the phone when I told her about the kiss that it made my ears ring. And when I told her about the scandalous dining room tryst, she was nearly apoplectic.

"Ohmigod girl!" she had squealed. "I can't believe my sweet, little goody-two-shoes Y/N has turned into such a fabulous hussy!"

 _Frankly I couldn't believe it either. This was definitely uncharted territory for me_.

I stepped out of the elevator onto the fourth floor and headed to the conference room. Christ, it looked like it was packed with people. Lt. Stevens was standing at the podium when I walked in the room. "Ah, there she is!" he smiled amiably. "I was just telling your colleagues here the good news. Our new FBI liaison!"

I made a quick glance over the faces in the room. I saw Martinez smiling, Davidson looking more sullen than ever, and poor sweet little Stuart was actually clapping.

I schooled my expression into one of polite deference as I turned to Stevens. "I'm glad I can be of service, sir."

_Holy fuck. If they only knew what was going on behind the scenes..._

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Lt. Stevens had spent the morning outlining new surveillance assignments for the group. As quiet as things seemed to be within the Vors recently, he had apparently decided to start focusing on the Italian and Irish groups. He had assigned small groups of detectives to keep eyes on the various cartel connected businesses, and to start trying to identify key players. I was being set apart on my own, to keep myself available whenever the FBI wished to come calling.

I felt strangely relieved to be out of the loop so to speak, though I couldn't place the reason why.

When I got back to my desk after the meeting, Jacque wasn't there. I saw a small, nondescript brown package lying on top of my keyboard. Picking it up, I saw that it was addressed to me. No return address. _I don't think this is Nikolai..._

I took a quick glance around. The office was mostly empty and it seemed nearly everybody was already out for lunch. I sat down in my chair and pulled the scissors out of my top drawer.

I eyed the package warily. Funny how such an unassuming little box could fill me with such a heavy sense of apprehension.

I cut it open. And there it was, the phone Susan Plummer had told me to expect. _Fuck. Somebody cue the James Bond music_.

It was a black nondescript iPhone in a plain black case. I powered it on and saw it had a full charge. Hastily I powered it off. I unlocked the side drawer in my desk where I normally stow my duty weapon while I'm in the office, and shoved the phone and its power cord inside.

"You ready to go, girl?"

I startled, looking up at Jacque. _Christ I hadn't even heard him walk up._ _Holy fuck I'm going to be a terrible spy!_

"Yeah sure thing Jacque, where you wanna go?" I babbled a little too fast.

He raised a brow. "How 'bout that deli on Chartes? No more coffee for you today though, girl," he laughed. "You got the jitters something fierce."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

That evening Jacque had dithered around the office at the end of the shift.

"You sure you don't need any help with anything?" he asked as he shrugged on his jacket.

"Nah, I'm good Jacque," I smiled and started stacking a new pile of reports. "I'm gonna review some of these old intel documents on the Italian groups. Try to get up to speed before the next task force meeting."

He smiled. "Okay. I told Mel we could go grab dinner at that new Creole restaurant uptown, but I'd be glad to stay if you need me to."

I laughed. "Oh hell no, Jacque. I refuse. Besides, Mel would probably skin us both alive if I kept you here working late. Go have some fun."

He grinned. "She might skin me alive anyway for letting you work too hard."

I smiled. "I won't be here late, I promise. Now go! Don't leave a girl waiting!"

Darkness had already fallen outside. After Jacque left, I pulled down the shades on the windows and turned off the fluorescent overhead lights. I dropped down gracelessly into my chair and flicked on the desk lamp.

Sighing heavily, I looked down at the locked drawer of my desk, eyeing it like there was a cobra coiled inside.

_Dammit Y/N, put your big girl panties on!_

I plucked my key ring from inside my purse. I unlocked the drawer and pulled the phone out, powering it on. I set it down on the top of the desk, watching it warily. It started ringing, startling me.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, it's Susan Plummer. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, Susan. Thank you for asking. How are you?"

"I am well. Are you alone?"

I took a look around the dark silent office. "Yes, it's just me."

"How are things going?"

I sighed. "Well, the discreet nature on my appointment as your liaison has been submarined, Susan. Lt. Stevens made it an announcement today. To everybody in the group."

She sighed in return. "Yes, I was afraid of that. Lt. Stevens is very...enthusiastic." She laughed gently. "And not very discreet."

I chuckled. "Unfortunately, yes."

"So how did things go on Friday?"

 _Fuck_. I took a deep breath. "It went very well...he sent a car to pick me up from the Leon. We had dinner at Matryoshka. It was very nice. It turned into a very late night. Things got....um...very heated towards the end of the evening."

"Heated? He was angry?" she asked. I could hear the concern in her voice.

"No, not that kind of heated." I cleared my throat. "Heated...in the uh...romantic sense." _Truthfully heated was probably a dramatically insufficient understatement. Christ I could still hear his "heated" voice in my head as clearly as that night_ :

_I have wanted you from the very moment I saw you..._

"Oh." I could almost hear the smile in her voice. "Then I suppose things went very well."

I cleared my throat again. "Yeah..." I replied lamely.

"So what is your impression?"

"He is very elusive, as you said. And very skilled in redirecting conversations away from himself. He really doesn't give anything away."

"Well for being such an elusive man, he seems to very solicitous of you, Y/N. Honestly, I would have been surprised to hear that you had learned any sensitive information from him on your first informal encounter."

I nodded. "Yes, I suppose that would have surprised me too."

"Are you really doing okay, Y/N? If this situation is getting to be too difficult to handle..."

"No, no Susan. I'm okay, really."

_Fuck why does it seem that I have to keep saying that to people?_

"I've had an idea, Y/N. I'd like you to consider something. There is a federal investigations conference in Boston this week. I'll inform Lt. Stevens that the FBI would like to send you to it to network with other agencies. It's only a two day meeting." She paused. "I'd like to see how Itchenko reacts."

I shifted in my chair. "If there is a leak inside the task force, I imagine it's only a matter of time before word gets to him that I've been appointed as a liaison to the FBI. There's a chance that once he finds that out, he'll drop off the radar completely."

 _Fuck. I didn't want to think about that._ As persistent as Nikolai seemed to be about wanting to see me again, despite the fact that I'm the police, somehow I doubted that he would be reckless enough to still pursue me if he knew I had ties to the Feds. And I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

And of course, there was the other more alarming possibility. That being labeled as part of the Feds would paint a big target on my back. It's never a good idea to let a dangerous mafia enforcer think you've been setting him up.

"Somehow I don't think so, Y/N," Susan said softly, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Why not?"

"I think that he is very taken with you," she said seriously.

I huffed out a pale laugh. "You have a talent for leaving me at a loss for words, Susan."

"I understand. Frankly, I don't think there is much that would scare off a man like him. If you are okay with this, I'd like to see how this trip goes. I'll call Lt. Stevens in the morning and make your arrangement to be in Boston for Wednesday afternoon."

I nodded. "I'll get packed."

"Excellent. I'll talk to you soon, Y/N."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

When I got home that night, I sent Nikolai a text. It was simple, but I imagined the aftershocks would be profound.

Sent: *They have noticed*

 

  
@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I waited until Tuesday night to give Jacque and Mel the heads up about my trip, passing it off as a last minute assignment. The local FBI field office had emailed me the conference itinerary and my flight and hotel booking.

I hadn't gotten another text back from Nikolai. Not Monday night, not all day Tuesday. _Fuck. Maybe it was for the best._ At least that's what I kept telling myself.

And now here I was on a Wednesday morning, sitting in the plane as we idled on the runway. I sighed and leaned back in my seat as the captain droned over the loudspeaker. _Would it be bad form to order a couple hundred cocktails on a morning flight?_

I sighed again. Obviously he had read into the implication of the text I had sent him that night. That our communication, association, connection, whatever you wanted to call it had been noticed. In reality my own department was in the dark of course, not that it really mattered. Maybe I shouldn't have done it. But somehow it didn't feel right to leave him completely in the dark, and it was only a matter of time before the news reached him about my appointment. Maybe Stevens wasn't the only one capable of submarining sensitive information. _Christ maybe I have a self-destructive streak I didn't know I had._

_Fuck. I shouldn't feel this way. This odd feeling of loss makes absolutely no sense. For christssakes it's not like I'm in love with the man. In lust, yes I can admit, but not in love. It was probably doomed from the beginning anyway, right? Maybe it was for the best..._

We had finally started to taxi on the runway.

And then I heard the ding.

I scrambled to grab my purse from the underseat floorboard and pulled out my phone. It was a number I didn't recognize. It wasn't Nikolai's number, but it was definitely him.

*Hello angel*

It was so strange. I was ridiculously happy to read it and yet also profoundly troubled. I didn't know how to reply, I didn't know if I should reply.

 _No, Y/N. Just leave it_.

Little Miss Subconscious piped in. "You know you want to talk to him, dearest. And you know Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deliciously Dangerous is head over heels for you." I glared at her internally.

The stewardess walked up. "I'm sorry Miss, but you'll have to power off your phone for take-off."

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered distractedly. I took one last look at the text and powered off my phone.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

After I landed, I took a cab from the airport to the hotel. I retrieved my bag from the trunk and paid the fare to the driver. The lobby was bustling with people when I stepped inside. An eagerly enthusiastic blonde woman greeted me at the front desk.

"Welcome to the Lumiere," she smiled brightly. "How may I help you?"

"Hello. A reservation for Y/N Y/L/N?" I smiled in return. "Two nights."

Miss Congeniality consulted her computer. Her smile faltered slightly, and then reappeared even more radiantly than before. "I'm so sorry Miss Y/L/N. It appears that we have overbooked. If it's alright, we'd like to upgrade you to a luxury suite with our compliments."

"Oh, err...okay. Thank you," I replied.

Miss Congeniality grinned as she handed me the key card. "Do you need any assistance with your baggage?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks."

"Enjoy your stay," she winked conspiratorially.

 _Yeah...That was weird_.

I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the elevator. I punched the button for my floor, which was nearly at the top of the building. The elevator whisked me up smoothly. I stepped out on the landing of my floor and headed to my room. I swiped the key card at the door and stepped inside.

 _Wow_.

The room was beautiful. I stepped into the foyer and took in the huge space before me. The room opened into a plush living area with a black leather couch in front of huge flatscreen tv mounted on the wall. There were two burgundy stuffed armchairs around a dark carved wood coffee table. I saw a large kitchen area to the right and a long wooden dining table with a large honest-to-god candelabra on it. To the left were enormous windows overlooking the downtown skyline.

I left my purse and suitcase in the living room and walked through two French doors into the bedroom. There was an enormous California king bed in the middle of the room and another enormous window flanked by a plush, dark blue chaise lounge. The bathroom was another opulent affair. There was a jacuzzi tub and a walk-in shower with stone laden walls. It even had those ridiculously fluffy spa robes hanging on the wall.

 _Wow. I'm never going to want to leave this room. Maybe this trip wasn't such a bad idea after all_.

I walked back into the living area and noticed a Bose stereo system on the kitchen countertop. I turned it on softly to drown out the silence of the room.

There was a delicious-looking fruit basket next to the stereo and I plucked out an apple. I took a bite. _Wow, this is seriously swank_. There was a card nestled inside the basket, and I pulled it out.

**_Congratulations!_ **

I frowned. _Whoops, I guessed I bumped somebody else out of their room. Oh well. Their loss, my gain, right?_

I sat down on one of the cushy armchairs, munching idly on my apple. I glanced over at my purse. I still hadn't turned my phone back on. I wanted to of course, but somehow I hadn't yet been able to muster the courage.

 _Christ, Y/N. Quit being such a puss_.

I sighed heavily and walked over, digging it out of my purse. I powered it back on and nearly choked on my apple.

 _Holy fuck, five new messages_. They were all from his apparently new number, and had been sent in the hours since I first got on the plane.

*I have been missing you, Y/N.*

*The memory of your taste, your scent, and your touch absolutely torments me.*

*Can you talk?*

*Are you alright, angel?*

*Are you there?*

I sat down, my knees suddenly feeling weak. I was so sorely tempted to respond, and yet there was something within me that was holding me back. I felt pinioned. It wasn't fear necessarily, or maybe it was. _Fuck I don't know_. It just felt like I was on some kind of precipice, on the edge of falling, but into what I didn't know.

I looked down at my watch. _Shit, I better get cleaned up._ The itinerary said there was an introductory dinner tonight over at the Four Seasons hotel, where the conference would be hosted.

I showered, put on my makeup and perfume, and dressed in a black silk dress shirt and grey slacks. I left my hair long and loosely curled. _Ugh, I wish I didn't have to go to this thing_. I would have been perfectly content to hide out in my plush room, order room service, and watch movies all night on that ridiculously large tv.

As it turned out, that would have been the better option.

The introductory dinner was a waste. It seemed this conference was going to mainly populated by stuffed suits that hadn't been issued a sense of humor in the FBI academy. I hadn't felt like eating anything. I had stayed mainly to myself, sipping idly on a cup of hot tea.

That hadn't helped calm my wayward thoughts in the slightest. I remembered the last cup of hot tea I had. The warm taste of black cherries...

 _Fuck_.

It had been a relief when the event finally drew to a close. I made my polite rounds saying goodbye to the stuffed shirts and snuck out as quickly as possible. Once I climbed into a cab to head back to my hotel, I finally felt like I could breathe easier.

_Christ this is going to be a long two days...at least this one is almost over._

 

  
@@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Back at the hotel, I leaned my head back against the mirrored wall of the elevator as it shuttled up to my floor. _I think I'll soak in a hot bath and raid the mini fridge for those absurd little bottles of hard liquor. Yeah, that sounds like a fabulous idea..._

I trudged down the hallway to my room and pulled my key card out of my purse, swiping it at the door.

But when I opened the door to my room, a strange sense of unease hit me.

There was soft music playing on the stereo and the candles on the dining table were lit. The flicker of the flames cast undulating shadows in the dimly lit room. I looked to the panoramic windows reflecting the twinkling lights of downtown Boston.

 _Something isn't right. Something is off. Fuck, I wish I had my duty weapon_.

I quietly set down my purse on the couch and began scanning the room.

It's hard to describe the hyper-alert sensation that you feel when your gut is telling you that you are not alone in a room. The little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Every breath you draw echoes loudly in your ears. Lights, colors and shadows take on a higher definition and intensity. It almost feels as if your own skin begins to process the flow of air around you, searching for a foreign gust of movement.

I felt him even before I saw him. _Holy fuck._

"Nikolai."

He leisurely stepped out into the room from the French doors. He was wearing a blue suit jacket over a black polo shirt and black slacks. Even dressed casually, he looked elegant and poised. He smiled serenely, his eyes glittering with secret amusement.

"I had hoped that you would enjoy a much better accommodation than the dismal room booked for you by the FBI, Y/N."

I felt frozen on the spot. My pulse was thundering in my ears. I found myself at a complete loss for words.

"How?" I dragged the word out of my throat with supreme effort.

He smiled, walking towards me slowly. He moved so fluidly like a predatory cat slinking towards its prey. "I called the front desk and explained that I wished to surprise my fiancé. I requested to upgrade your room, and to do so with the upmost discretion."

"Why?" I asked, grateful that my voice did not betray a tremor.

He stood before me, a breath away. He gazed into my eyes. "You haven't been answering my messages, Y/N." His voice was low, his tone formidably chiding.

My heart was hammering in my chest. "You got my last message, Nikolai. I told you they have noticed our communication."

"Ah yes.." His smile was deadly, like candy-coated arsenic. "The FBI...you have recently been appointed as their liaison, have you not?"

 _Fuck. He already knows_.

"I have."

"Tell me Y/N, has the FBI taken you into their fold? Are you perhaps in their clutches now?"

"I don't work for the FBI, Nikolai."

He loomed over me, intimidating and dangerously close. I willed myself to keep my breathing even. Being this close to him surged to mind the memory of our last encounter at the restaurant. His touch, his scent, his voice. Kissing on the rooftop. Ravishing me on the tabletop.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Get it together, girl._

"Is it possible you have been anticipating my arrival here, Y/N?" He leaned in close, his mouth at my ear. He drew in a long breath, and it sent a wave of tingling all down my neck. I caught the scent of his damnably delicious cologne. _Fuck_.

His lips brushed against my earlobe. "Are you perhaps wearing a wire as we speak?" he whispered.

 _A wire? A fucking recording device hidden on my person?_ I was errantly outraged by the presumption. I fortified my courage, meeting his eyes steadily.

"How do I know you're not the one wearing a wire, Nikolai?" I said, a note of anger in my voice. "Perhaps you are hoping to catch me uttering some compromising information that can be used against me later. Perhaps you are planning to make a call to Internal Affairs."

His smile curled sardonically. "I know that I wear no wire. Perhaps I should prove it to you."

 _Prove it to me?_ I looked at him curiously. He smiled enigmatically in reply.

His eyes never left mine as he shrugged out of his dress jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the chair behind him. He sat down and pulled off his leather shoes and socks. _What in the hell is he doing?_ He stood up, that small mysterious smile still on his lips. He began to unbutton his polo shirt and pulled it over his head.

 _Holy fuck_.

His muscular torso was completely covered in tattoos. I saw the dagger at his throat, the Vor stars boldly etched on his shoulders. And _my god_ , there was much, much more.

His entire chest and the lengths of his arms were a macabre art gallery. I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There was a panther snarling on his left pectoral, a roaring lion on his right pectoral. His abdomen was covered by a screaming horned demon and a crowned skull flanked by a winding snake. There were winged devils, smiling reapers, skulls and spiders covering his arms, and intricate epaulets on his shoulders. In the middle of his chest were the words: Не трогай меня, если хочешь жить. _Don't touch me if you want to live_.

He looked utterly unperturbed by my scrutinizing gaze. Without thinking I reached out and trailed my fingertips over the words and pictures. There was no missing the subtle, sharp intake of his breath as he watched me intently. His smooth tan skin pebbled with goosebumps at each brush of my touch.

I walked around him, skimming my fingertips over his shoulder. The artwork on his back was just as intricate and mysterious as his chest. His entire back was covered by a large labyrinthine tattoo. A large church with multiple cupolas stood proudly flanked by another vicious horned demon and another crowned skull. I saw the words TEMHOTA and TEPPOP. _Darkness and Terror_. At the nape of his neck was a screaming skull with leathery looking bats wings and the word CMEPTb. _Death_.

 _Holy fuck_. His story was even deeper than the FBI could imagine. He wasn't just an enforcer. He was obviously a _very_ high ranking authority in the Russian underworld. A boss. A chief assassin.

I moved to face him again. His gaze was moltenly hot as he looked into my eyes. He smiled slowly, dangerously. His hands moved to his belt. The sound of him unbuckling the clasp was shamelessly loud in the tense quiet of the room.

 _Holy fuck_.

"Nikolai..." There was a tone of warning in my voice. A warning of what? I had no fucking idea.

His belt undone, he unbuttoned his pants and dragged down his zipper. All coherent thought apparently fled from my mind. I opened my mouth to speak but the words died on my tongue. He dropped his pants to his feet and stepped out of them. He stood looking utterly relaxed in his _utterly compelling_ dark grey boxer briefs. His muscular legs were similarly covered in detailed tattoos that spread from the large Vor stars on his knees. _My god_.

He smiled again "Are you satisfied that I wear no wire, Y/N?"

I met his eyes before dropping my gaze and letting my eyes take him in from head to toe. I smiled, biting my lip. "Speechlessly, Nikolai."

He closed the small distance between us. I smothered down the insistent urge to reach out and touch him again.

"Now, how do I know that you are not wearing a wire, Detective?" he whispered. His heated gaze was challenging, daring me to partake in this dangerous game.

 _Holy fuck. This is the point of no return_.

I smiled, strangely exhilarated by the reckless tension of the moment. If this was playing with fire, I was more than willing to dive headfirst into the gasoline.

"Shall I prove it you, Mr. Itchenko?" I remarked, flashing him a coy smile.

Before he could reply, I stepped back from him and stepped out of my heels. His eyes tracked my movements raptly. I met his sultry gaze unwaveringly as I slowly began to unbutton my dress shirt. In a fleeting thought, I errantly thanked any listening deity that I had worn my black lace bra and matching panties tonight.

His green eyes flared with heat as I pulled apart my unbuttoned shirt and dropped it beside me on the floor. I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and shimmied them slowly over my hips to drop at my feet. I stepped out of them towards him. Heat was radiating from his body. His eyes roved hungrily over my form as if memorizing every curve.

I felt utterly brazen in that moment. I smiled and reached behind my back, unclasping my bra. I let the straps fall over my shoulders and then dropped it to the floor, freeing my ample breasts. _My god_ his gaze was burning hot. I could almost feel the heat of it on my skin.

"Are you satisfied, Nikolai?" I whispered.

He moved so fast I had no time to react. He seized me roughly and crushed me against him. I crashed my lips against his. _Fuck he tastes even better than I remember_. His kiss was utterly savage. Within moments I was breathless, trying to keep up with the ferocity of his lips and tongue.

He reached down, cupping my ass and lifting me effortlessly into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, carding my fingers through his hair. His rock hard erection stabbed into my core and I rocked my hips into him wantonly. He carried me into the bedroom and we tumbled onto the edge of the bed.

He broke his kiss and looked down at me, his eyes boring into mine. "You must tell me now if you don't want this," he said gruffly, his voice rough and breathless.

"I want you, Nikolai. Please..." I moaned, shamelessly grinding my hips up into his.

He groaned and kissed me hungrily. "How I have longed to hear you say those words," he whispered.

He trailed kisses down my throat and bit down gently at the juncture to my shoulder. I thrashed helplessly against him, pinned down by his chest. He lifted himself up, lavishing hot open-mouthed kisses over my breasts worshipfully. I moaned, clutching at the solid mass of his muscular shoulders. He moved further down, gliding his tongue over my stomach as I arched up against him.

He paused at my midriff and planted feather soft kisses along my hips, looking up into my eyes. A wicked smile curled over his lips. He hooked his fingers into the sides of my panties. "I want to taste you, Y/N."

I smiled, biting my lip. "Yes, please Nikolai.." My voice was tremulous.

He slowly dragged my panties down my legs, kissing down the insides of my thighs. "Mmmm...I love hearing you speak my name, Y/N. I would love even more to hear you _scream_ it."

 _Holy fuck_. I had never been more turned on in my life.

He smiled slowly and guided my legs over his shoulders, kneeling like a supplicant at an altar. I couldn't tear my eyes from his as he slowly licked his lips. And then he was bending his head, kissing the insides of my thighs softly, his unshaven cheeks brushing enticingly against my skin. I began to writhe mindlessly, the sensation of his warm lips simmering into my skin. He gripped my hips firmly, his muscular forearms pinning down my thighs.

And then- _oh god_ -he licked a long slow stripe over my sex, his tongue hot against my over-sensitized flesh. My hips bucked involuntarily against the powerful hold of his arms. "Oh god-Nikolai-fuck..." I gasped.

He groaned. "Oh angel, you taste absolutely exquisite." And then he attacked, his mouth latching onto my clit and his tongue lapping into me deeply. I cried out brokenly, my back arching up off the bed. He mouthed at me voraciously like a man starved. I carded my fingers into his hair and he groaned again, the sound vibrating through my skin. I was a mass of mindless sensation, trembling in his powerful embrace. I was aware of nothing but the drag of his agile tongue on my heated flesh.

He sank one long finger into me. _My god_ I was already dripping wet. He hummed appreciatively and I felt that marvelous finger hook up, stroking my g-spot firmly. I moaned inarticulately and gripped his hair more firmly. And- _oh fuck he liked that_ -he began to devour me in earnest, sliding another finger inside me and thrusting slowly.

I was completely overwrought, my legs trembling like mad. I felt an ever-tightening tension deep in my core, like a wire being wound tauter and tauter. _My god I must be going crazy_. I was completely lost in the slick assault of his tongue, his hot breath, and those miraculous fingers sliding tightly within me. Suddenly the tightening wire broke violently as my vision whited out, my orgasm slamming into me like a freight train, merciless and devastating. I arched up into his unrelenting grip, crying out his name, a scream breaking into a sob of relief.

His tongue never relented, but lapped at me gently, dragging me through to the the furthest expanse of my climax. My legs were trembling feebly as I gasped for breath. He gently kissed my pulsing sex soothingly before taking a long taste of the fruit of his labor.

"God...Nikolai..." I breathed as my voice returned to me raspingly.

He crawled up my spent form, trailing kisses over my abdomen. I was dimly aware of him sliding his briefs down his hips. He held himself up over me, bending his head down to claim my lips in a searing kiss. I could taste myself on the sheen of his lips.

He smiled. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that, Y/N," he whispered.

He sank down, his elbows on either side of my face, and kissed me hungrily. As he settled his weight on top of me, his- _oh fuck_ -hard throbbing cock slid against my soaking folds. He groaned lowly, his eyes drifting closed and I arched into him, suddenly aware that I was positively aching inside. _My god my pussy was absolutely starving for that delicious cock._ The ache inside was debilitatingly intense.

"Please Nikolai-god please-I need you inside me," I moaned.

He opened his eyes, kissing me fiercely. "Is this what you want, angel?" he whispered, rolling his hips and again sliding his cock teasingly against my still pulsing sex.

"Fuck yes, Nikolai," I moaned again. "Please..."

He growled lowly in my ear. "It is my greatest endeavor to please you, darling. Are you on the pill?"

"Yes..." I gasped as his warm pulsing cock head slid over my throbbing clit.

"Mmmm I am delighted to hear that, angel." He rocked his hips again, sliding slickly against me. "I cannot tell you how badly I want to feel you," he groaned out the words. "To feel how warm and wet you are for me."

Somehow I found my voice even though my mind was a scattered mess of incoherent thoughts. "Yes please, Nikolai. You have me aching so badly inside." I captured his lower lip in my teeth and nipped it gently.

His heated gaze became absolutely incandescent and he kissed me savagely, his tongue thrusting into my mouth. I twined my legs around his waist as he gripped my hips roughly.

His cock head was pushing insistently at my soaking entrance. Even as slick as I felt, his cock felt impossibly thick. I knew it had been a long time for me, but _my god_ how on earth was that going to fit inside me?

He thrust inside me slowly, parting my clinging walls and stretching me with a sting that hurt and at the same time felt _oh so fucking good_. I cried out, my hands clinging to the sinewy muscles of his back. He rocked his hips into mine, pushing relentlessly deeper and then _my god_ he was hitting bottom.

An agonized moan of pleasure broke from his throat. "Bozhe moi...angel..." He growled. "So fucking tight..."

I met his eyes. The green depths were dark with a desperate, breathless torment. He stilled inside me, allowing me to adjust to him. He kissed me so deeply and yet so maddeningly gently. I pressed my heels into the base of his back, willing him to stretch me impossibly deeper. I moaned wantonly in his ear. "Please Nikolai..."

His kissed my neck, biting softly on my ear. "Please what, angel?" His voice was wrecked and breathless. He lifted his head and trailed his thumb slowly over my lower lip.

"Please..." I whispered. "Please fuck me, Nikolai..."

He didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled back almost completely withdrawing and then slammed back into me. I cried out wordlessly, clawing into his back. _Holy fuck he felt so good_. It was a raw mix of pleasure and pain as he began pounding into me relentlessly. I had never felt so incredibly full.

He groaned roughly and slowed to a stop. "Fuck Y/N...I can't...you feel so fucking..." he growled brokenly.

I felt a thrill of pride somewhere in the haze of lustful madness. The utterly composed and restrained Nikolai Itchenko was in danger of losing his self control. I kissed him soothingly, trailing my fingers down his back.

I smiled against his lips, suddenly feeling recklessly empowered. "Let me." Before he could reply I planted one of my feet into the bed for leverage and pushed, rolling him onto his back.

He laughed warmly and then hissed with pleasure as I impaled myself down onto him. He grabbed my hips and groaned. "Are you man-handling me again, angel?"

"Only if you'll let me," I whispered and ground my hips down into his. _Oh fuck he felt even deeper like this._ _My god_ I was so wet but the stretch of his thick cock burned wonderfully.

I began to ride him slowly, swaying and rolling my hips. His fingertips were pressing into me so hard I knew there would be bruises later. I didn't care, I wanted him to mark me, to possess me utterly. His hands drifted up from my hips to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing my taut nipples.

"So beautiful..." he whispered. He arched up taking one rosy peak into his mouth and suckling hard. I keened softly, running my fingers into his hair as he moved to my other breast. His hands drifted back to my hips and he gripped them tightly, canting his own hips back just so and- _oh fuck_ -that was just the right spot. I shuddered and moaned plaintively. His hypnotic eyes were watching me so raptly and when he saw my tremor, he began thrusting up to meet my rocking hips.

"Oh god, yes Nikolai...right there," I gasped. His dark eyes glittered ravenously and he started thrusting up more forcefully. _Holy fuck._ Every lunge of his incredibly stiff cock seemed to be igniting a pulsing fire in my core. I felt my legs beginning to tremble again as my orgasm began coiling inside me.

His gaze was moltenly hot, his pupils blown wide. "That's it, angel," he groaned. "Come for me."

And- _oh god_ -the low wrecked rasp of his voice and the incessant plunge of his cock inside me careened me over the edge. "Fuck! Nikolai...please don't stop...OH GOD NIKOLAI!" My orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami wave. I threw my head back, crying out, my legs trembling tumultuously.

He arched up into me again, kissing me hard and greedily. I whimpered into his mouth and he pulled me tightly into his chest. Dimly I registered that he rolled me gently onto my back. He was on me again in a heartbeat, driving his cock so deeply inside me.

I cried out again, my inner walls were still fluttering tightly around him. He groaned brokenly and began fucking me hard and mercilessly. The brutal snap of his hips, his breathless groans, and the raw intensity of his gaze all threatened to steal my sanity. I was so lost, adrift in a sea of incredible sensation. He kissed me like his life depended on it, all warring tongue and lips.

He seemed completely lost too, his eyes shining with dominant lust. He murmured a stream of hot breathless Russian in my ear. The tempo of his thrusts became more and more staccato. "Bozhe moi, angel..fuck!" He pushed up on his arms and captured my lips again. My orgasm coiled again weakly, my body felt so utterly spent, and then it was crashing roughly over me anew. I had no voice for it, and I dug my fingernails into his back overwhelmed with sensation.

He came hard with a hoarse shout that hitched and melted into a long, low groan. I felt his warmth flooding me inside. We were both breathless and utterly wrecked. He gave me one last long thrust, burying his hot seed so deep inside.

I was trembling weakly in his arms. He kissed me so softly, so tenderly. "My angel...my beautiful angel..." he whispered.

We stayed like that for several moments, wrapped in each other's embrace. He began to withdraw from me with a hiss and I moaned at the loss, feeling at once incredibly sore and incredibly sated. He dropped onto his back and pulled me into his arms. I lay my head in the wonderfully comfortable crook in his shoulder, hearing his heartbeat drumming powerfully in his chest. He pulled the disarrayed sheet over us.

He kissed me tenderly on the forehead. "My god, what have you done to me, angel?"

I smiled against his skin. "Whatever do you mean?" My voice was still weak, my throat sore and rasping.

He turned his head slightly and lifted my chin up gently to meet his gaze. His beautiful green eyes were so compellingly soft. "You have utterly unmanned me, goddess. I am completely under your power."

"My power?" I smiled. "I believe I am the one who has just been so thoroughly fucked."

His gaze heated and he pulled me close in another scorching kiss. He whispered against my lips. "Is my beautiful angel satisfied?"

"Intensely."

I felt him smile against my lips. He kissed me softly again and drifted his lips up to my temple. I settled my head onto his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in my ear.

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

I must have dozed. I awoke to soft kisses feathering over my shoulder and into my neck. I must have rolled off of his shoulder at some point and onto my side. The candles had apparently burned down, the only light in the room was from the downtown lights glowing dimly from the window. I could feel his heat behind me, his kisses warm on my skin.

He dragged a knuckle softly down the center of my bare back. He brushed his palm over my tattoo and I felt him bend to kiss it gently.

I stirred and stretched my limbs, feeling languid and delightfully achey. He pulled closer to me, my back flush to his chest. I reached back and caressed his hip and he settled in behind me. I felt his cock rise to life against the curve of my ass. With a wicked thrill, I rocked my hips back into him and he hummed deeply.

"Is my angel awake and thirsty for more?" he murmured, kissing my neck.

I smiled. "I was thoroughly sated and sleeping soundly...I was awakened by lovely, mysterious kisses."

He chuckled warmly. "You must forgive me, angel. I couldn't help myself." He canted his hips against my ass, his stiff cock pressing against my folds and sliding effortlessly along my slick entrance.

"What will your forgiveness cost me, darling?" he whispered darkly in my ear. I shuddered deliciously.

 _Holy fuck how could I still be so wet and responsive?_ _My god_ his voice, his touch, everything effected me so profoundly. That and the fact-I realized with a blush-that his cum was still coating warmly inside me.

I stopped caressing his hip and gripped it tightly. "Just you, Nikolai. I'm all yours," I whispered.

He snaked a hand over my hip and between my legs, his fingertips brushing over my clit. I moaned and thrashed against him. "Please I need you right now, Nikolai," I gasped. "I want you inside me."

He gripped my thigh, bringing my leg up over his knee. And then- _mmmm fuck_ -he was sliding that thick cock inside me with a possessive growl. I was decadently sore but it felt so good, the ache inside blooming into a pyre of pleasure. He slid in tightly to the hilt and groaned. It was as if that delicious cock had carved me into a perfect fit.

He reached across my chest cupping my breast gently, and kissing across the back of my neck and then up to my ear. "You may have anything you desire, angel," he whispered, and punctuated it with a sharp thrust of his hips.

I keened softly, grinding back into him. It was maddeningly frustrating that his hip was the only place my hand could find purchase. "Turn me over, Nikolai...please..." I begged.

He was quick to comply. He withdrew from me and I rolled onto my back. He moved fluidly between my legs, embracing me passionately. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he kissed me deeply. He positioned himself again at my damp entrance and sank into me ever so slowly. I bowed into him, my hands twining into his hair.

He surged his hips into mine smoothly and gently. The soreness inside had completely dissolved into a wonderfully pleasurable ache. _My god_ he felt so fucking good even at this unhurried pace. He kissed me so delicately, brushing his lips over mine softly. I dragged my nails lightly over his back and I saw goosebumps bloom on his forearms.

"Milaya moya..." he murmured over my lips. He thrust into me so deeply and deliberately, as if he was savoring every inch. I moaned a hushed cry against his mouth, my eyes fluttering closed.

My hands drifted down to his powerful arms. He captured my wrists in his grip and laced his fingers into mine.

The slow slide of his cock inside me was so deliciously heady. I raised my hips to meet the rolling tide of his thrusts and a deep groan rumbled from his chest.

"Open your eyes, angel," he whispered. "I want to see you."

When I opened my eyes again, he was gazing down at me. I was stunned by the raw emotion I saw in his eyes. The beautiful green depths were so serious and artlessly sincere. He smiled and kissed me softly. "My beautiful angel..." he whispered.

_Oh my god._

_This wasn't fucking. This was slow, sensual and tender._

_This was making love._

_Holy fuck_.

I wasn't sure if I was elated or utterly terrified.

I found that I didn't have the will to pull together any of my scattered thoughts or feelings. I was mesmerized by his captivating eyes, the taste of his lips, and the slow throbbing slide of his cock inside me.

I untwined my fingers from his and took his face in my hands. I kissed him gently, and whispered against his lips. "God...Nikolai, you feel so...so good."

He smiled. "I told you it is my greatest endeavor to please you, Y/N." He thrust so deeply inside me and I cried out softly. He groaned. "Do you have any idea how incredible you feel?"

I shook my head, smiling wordlessly.

"Let me show you," he whispered.

He sat back on his heels and pulled me up into his embrace. I yelped at the change of penetration as he settled me into his lap. He smiled wickedly and gripped my hips, impaling me deeper. He swallowed my gasp of pleasure. _Mmmm...fuck_. The slow rock of his hips was hitting me in just the right spot.

The tell-tale tremble in my legs began. My core was pulsing, my orgasm coiling like a spring. It was a slow and inescapable pull, like being sucked down into quicksand. I moaned plaintively.

"You look so...so beautiful when you come," he whispered. "The sounds you make drive me absolutely mad."

I felt like I was coming apart at the seams, the maddeningly slow plunge of his cock driving me over the edge.

"Come with me, Nikolai," I gasped. "Please...come with me."

The green pools of his eyes gleamed with a determined ardor. I could almost see the moment he abandoned his restraint and allowed himself to fully immerse in sensation. He groaned, clutching my hips and kissed me savagely. _My god_ the expression on his face was so beautifully tormented with pleasure. The intensity of his gaze was irresistible. He grasped my hips in his iron grip, rocking me up into the relentless thrusts of his cock.

My climax slammed into me suddenly and brutally hard. I cried out his name, my vision blurring in a dizzying spin. My inner muscles clamped down on him sharply, dragging him over the edge with me. "Fuck! Y/N!" His shout caught in his throat and broke into a deep quavering groan. My nerves were so sensitized that I could feel every pulse of his cock as his warmth flooded me again.

He kissed me fiercely again and laid me back on the bed. My mind was still so dazed and fuzzy. I faintly registered him withdrawing from me and winced with sensitivity. He fell back beside me with breathless pant and pulled me into his arms.

It was so warm and comfortable wrapped in his embrace. I felt utterly boneless lying on his chest, lulled again by his thundering heartbeat. He gently brushed my hair back from my face and kissed me tenderly on the forehead. I snuggled into him and he squeezed me tightly to his chest. The urge to sleep was clawing at me and I could not find the will to fight it. As the last grains of consciousness slipped through my fingers, I heard him murmur.

"Goodnight, lubov moya..."

 

 


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Miss Subconscious had apparently been watching my harried arrangements with amusement. "Why so stressed, dearest? One would almost think you're on the run from something. Surely you're not on the run from your love-struck gangster, are you?" she smirked darkly.

Part Six

 

Pale wisps of sunlight were streaming weakly through the windows when I opened my eyes. I was lying on my stomach and tangled in the sheets. I sat up suddenly and looked around the room. The sun was beginning to rise lazily against a darkly overcast sky. The room was deafeningly silent.

Nikolai was gone.

I pulled the sheet up to my bare chest. For a few sleep-addled moments, my mind tried to process these surreal circumstances. _Did last night really happen_? If it wasn't for the tell-tale ache between my legs, I would have thought it all a vivid dream.

There was a note on the pillow beside me. Beneath the hotel insignia was his elegant script.

 ** _You look so beautiful when you sleep, angel. I wish that I could be here when you wake. I miss you already_**.

A small part of me felt strangely bereft waking up alone. Another part of me felt relieved. In the reckless lustful haze of last night, I had no opportunity and indeed no fucking inclination to analyze what was happening. _Holy fuck I can't believe what happened..._

_I slept with him._

_Holy. Fuck._

_We had an incredible night of mindlessly passionate sex._

_And that wasn't all. We had also made love._

_Holy. Fucking. Fuck_.

The bed looked a shell shocked mess. The sheets were rumpled and askew like a small warhead had erupted under the mattress. And there was a wet spot in the middle of the bed that had apparently only recently dried. I blushed to imagine what the housekeeping staff would think. _Maybe I better put the do not disturb sign on the door today_.

I tugged the sheet out and wrapped it around me protectively like armor. Gingerly I stepped out of bed onto wobbly legs and padded to the bathroom. I looked into the mirror.

My hair was a tousled mess and my lips were swollen. But _good god_ my complexion was absolutely glowing. I pulled the end of the sheet up my leg. There was a streak of small purple bruises peppering over my hip. The image flashed through my mind of his fingertips pressing roughly into my skin as I rocked in his lap, riding that incredible cock. _Holy shit_.

Little Miss Subconscious was humming happily to herself.

I walked dazedly to the dark living room still _almost_ half convinced I had been dreaming last night. And _oh holy fuck_ there were my clothes. In a pile. On the floor.

 _Ok Y/N, stop freaking out_.

I picked up the pile of clothes and rushed back to the bedroom as if I was hiding evidence of last night from god knows who.

There was a knock at the door. _Oh Jesus effing Christ!_ I threw the clothes into a corner of the bedroom and ran to the bathroom. I discarded my sheet of armor and hurriedly put on the hotel robe. Rushing back into the living room, I eyed the door as if it had done me some terrible injustice. There was another knock.

_Dammit, Y/N. Put your big girl panties on and answer the door. Oh wait, do you even know where your panties are, jezebel?_

I huffed out an annoyed sigh at myself and walked purposefully to the door. When I opened it, I saw a woman in a hotel uniform with a rolling tray cart.

She smiled. "I'm so sorry if I woke you ma'am. Your fiancé asked for room service to deliver breakfast this morning."

 _Oh_.

I cleared my throat. "Of course. Thank you. Please come in."

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

I sat crossed legged in an armchair drinking a heavenly cup of coffee. It wasn't until I smelled the food that I had realized that I was absolutely starving.

The room service breakfast spread was massive. Eggs, bacon, waffles, croissants, fruit, an ice cold pitcher of orange juice, and a large urn of coffee. It could have fed four people and then some. I had already demolished a plate of eggs, bacon and fruit, but it looked like I hadn't even made a dent in the servings.

I looked out the windows and watched as the sun struggled to rise out of a thick blanket of oppressively dark clouds. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance.

 _Christ_ , I still couldn't shake that feeling of surreal disbelief. _Sleeping with Nikolai fucking Itchenko. Making love in the middle of the night. My god_. I felt like there was a veil of unnatural calm over me, a calm that was barely restraining a total freak-out. _I mean really...What in the actual fuck have I gotten myself into?_

Last night had been absolutely amazing. My god, the way he had touched me...the way he utterly consumed me...how effortlessly he seemed to command my body...the words he spoke...

I could still hear that baritone timbre of his voice so clearly in my mind.

_I love hearing you speak my name, Y/N. I would love even more to hear you scream it._

_You have utterly unmanned me, goddess. I am completely under your power._

_Open your eyes, angel. I want to see you._

_You look so...so beautiful when you come. The sounds you make drive me absolutely mad_.

I suddenly felt incredibly flushed. _My god._ Just replaying those moments back in my head sent my pulse hammering in my ears.

"Don't forget the last bit, dearest," Little Miss Subconscious trilled.

_Goodnight, lubov moya..._

Lubov moya _._

_My love._

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! No. Absolutely not. I refuse to go there. He barely knows me, I barely know him. He is not in love with me, are you fucking kidding?_

The unbidden image of his face surfaced in my mind. The beautiful expression on his face as he looked into my eyes, the raw sincerity of his gaze, that small poignant smile as he whispered "my beautiful angel".

 _Holy fuck. What if he is falling in love with me? Am I falling in love with him? No...that's totally fucking crazy_. In my mind I looked desperately to Little Miss Subconscious for some form of wisdom. She said nothing, smiling an annoyingly self-satisfied smirk.

I finished my cup of coffee and set it down on the coffee table. I rose from the armchair, restless and vaguely anxious.

_C'mon get it together, girl. Focus on the facts, not the emotions. He seduced you. Or rather you allowed yourself to be seduced. But then again, he wasn't the one taking off your clothes, was he? That was all you. Who really seduced who in that scenario?_

I huffed out a sigh and walked over to the couch, taking my phone out of my purse. _Oh god_. There was a text from him that was obviously sent late last night.

*I can still smell your perfume all over my skin. It is incredibly distracting, darling. I wish that I could still be there with you. Unfortunately I have matters to which I must attend. Sleep well, angel. I will be dreaming of you.*

 _Oh holy hell_.

The phone started ringing, startling me. It was Mel. _Fuck_.

"Hey girl!" she sang when I answered. "You were supposed to call me when you got settled in last night."

"I slept with him," I blurted tonelessly.

"You what-wait-what?" she stammered. "Slept with who?" A pause. "Ohmigod girl! The sexy Russian?!? When?!? How?!?"

I dropped gracelessly onto the couch. "Nikolai. His name is Nikolai. He was here last night."

"At your hotel?"

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting it. I don't know how he knew I'd be here." I sighed. "He showed up here and um...things just sort of happened."

"Wow," she whispered.

"This is the part where you're supposed to tell me to run for the hills, Mel."

"Whoa, whoa whoa. Just calm down, Y/N." She paused and I could almost hear the smile in her voice. "Well...how was it?"

"Absolutely fucking incredible," I breathed, sinking back into the couch cushions.

"Oh. My. God. Girl," she laughed. "A man who knows how to fuck. I love it."

I actually smiled in spite of myself. "It wasn't just that though, Mel." I took a deep breath. "It was intense...like fuck I don't know...emotionally intense. The things he said were...I think he may be falling in love...I think I may be..." I stopped. "Fuck. I don't know what I think."

She paused, silent. "Listen Y/N, you know I love you. I want to see you happy. I know I joke a lot about forbidden affairs and all...I just want to make sure you're okay. If you think you're getting in over your head..."

"I'm okay, Mel. Really. I guess I just feel like I'm in a weird place with this."

"Just be careful, Y/N. I don't care if this man has a solid gold dick, all I care about is you and your happiness."

I huffed out a laugh. "I know, Mel. This is just some seriously heavy shit. If anyone found out, I could lose my job. Please you can't say anything to Jacque."

"Of course. You're my girl. My lips are sealed."

I wanted to tell her more. About Susan Plummer, my clandestine mission for the FBI, the information leaks in the bureau...I just couldn't do it. I didn't want her to worry.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. I think I'm gonna get the fuck out of here. This is the last day of the conference. I'm going to check out of the hotel and hopefully catch the first flight out of here tonight."

"Ok, girl. Just let me know."

"I will, honey. I'll talk to you soon."

 

  
@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I took a long hot shower trying to clear my mind and decompress. I tried in vain not to think about what it would be like to have him there with me...the hot water raining down over our bodies as he pressed me up against the stone laden walls. _Christ, stop it Y/N!_

When I had finally finished getting dressed, I walked back out in the bedroom. Rain had begun to drum lightly against the windows. The room was bathed in that pale eerie glow of a morning thunderstorm. I walked to the bed, picking up the note he had left on the pillow. _Christ almighty_.

I flopped down onto the bed and rolled my face into the pillows. They still smelled faintly like his cologne. _Motherfucking fuck_. I rolled onto my back and huffed out a sigh.

 _Yeah. I can't stay here tonight_.

I collected my things and started to pack. I scooped up my discarded clothes from their pile in the corner of the room and shoved them into my bag. I collected the note, folding it and sliding it surreptitiously into the side pocket. I walked around the bed, conducting a last once over for anything I missed.

_Wait a minute...where are my panties?_

I rifled through the bedding and even looked under the bed. Nothing.

_Holy fuck._

_He has them. Nikolai has my freaking panties. Wow_. I was at once scandalized... and also-admittedly-incredibly turned on.

 _No. Nonononononono. We are not going there right now. Get your shit together and get the fuck outta here, Y/N_.

I zipped my bag and walked to the door. I took one last look at the room. _My god_. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of him. The arm chair where he had discarded his jacket, the French doors he had carried me through, and the bed....

_Christ almighty._

_I can't do this. I refuse to let myself imagine a romantic relationship with Nikolai Itchenko. It's just not...not realistic_.

Little Miss Subconscious guffawed. "Imagine a romantic relationship? Too late darling, you're already in it." I glared at her.

I pulled my phone out of my purse. I pulled up the contact of his new telephone number and hit the "block" icon.

_Fuck. I had to do it, right? This can't keep going. Can it?_

I resolutely shoved my phone back in my purse. _Fuck it, it's done_. I switched off the lights a little too roughly, grabbed my luggage and walked out the door.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Before I left the hotel, I checked out at the front desk. Miss Congeniality had frowned when I gave her the news that I was checking out early. I had played it off hopefully convincingly, telling her that a family emergency had come up back in New Orleans.

I took a cab to the Four Seasons and thankfully the desk attendant told me it would be no problem to store my luggage until the end of the conference. I called my airline from the lobby and changed my flight from tomorrow morning to late tonight.

Little Miss Subconscious had apparently been watching my harried arrangements with amusement. "Why so stressed, dearest? One would almost think you're on the run from something. Surely you're not on the run from your love-struck gangster, are you?" she smirked darkly.

I ignored her and took the elevator up to the third floor. An ocean of stuffed suits were milling around the exterior hallway waiting for the first speaker to begin in the conference room. I picked up a conference program from the reception table outside the room and scanned down the list of speakers. With relief I spotted a large coffee urn being wheeled over on a cart by a hotel employee.

"Detective Y/L/N?"

I turned and looked up into the dark eyes of a strikingly handsome man with a salt and pepper beard.

"Yes?"

He smiled and extended his hand. "John Morgan. I'm a friend of Susan Plummer. She told me I should introduce myself. I tried to catch you last night, but I guess you ducked out early."

I returned his smile and shook his hand. "Yes. Sorry. I um...was kind of tired. Long day. So how do you know Susan?"

"Oh, I've known Susan for years. I'm the director of the FBI field office here in Boston."

 _Holy shit. The director?_ He didn't seem to fit the usual mold of the other Feds. He seemed much more approachable and friendly than your usual stuffed suit. He wasn't in the usual staid Fed costume either. He wore no jacket or tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up over his forearms. He definitely had the commanding presence of a leader though, confident and self-assured.

"Ahh," I smiled. "The man in charge."

He laughed, his whiskey brown eyes twinkling. "Yeah, don't remind me. Things have been uh...very busy in Boston recently. I've heard New Orleans has been very active too. Susan tells me that you've been appointed as a police liaison to the field office."

I nodded. "Yeah, don't remind me," I echoed laughing gently.

He grinned. "Hey that's an impressive thing, Detective Y/L/N. Believe me. I wish we had enough faith in our own police department to make that kind of move."

"You're very kind, Mr. Morgan. And please call me Y/N."

"Only if you'll call me John," he smiled. "Listen if you'll be free for the lunch hour, there's a great place down the street. If you're up for a taste of local fare, maybe you'll let me bend your ear a bit."

"Sure John, that's sounds good."

"Excellent. Pleasure meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, John."

He smiled and turned. As he walked away, I noted the deference showed by other agents that he passed. They parted like the Red Sea in his wake, nodding and greeting him respectfully.

 _Christ, what a fucking day I'm having. Freaking out about bedding Nikolai and now making lunch plans with the director of the Boston FBI field office. Lifetime movie here I come_.

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

The first presentation was painfully boring. I sat in the back of the room drinking a cup of horrific burnt-tasting coffee. The speaker was some agent from wherever-the-fuck field office and he droned on for what seemed like hours about audio surveillance. He briefly brought up the subject of agents wearing wires, and of course I was immediately transported back to last night.

_Now how do I know that you are not wearing a wire, Detective?_

The image flashed through my mind of Nikolai standing in the living room in his ridiculously compelling boxer briefs, his gorgeous muscular body covered in tattoos. I had to smother down a delicious shudder, squirming in my seat. _Jesus, get a grip, Y/N._

But of course it didn't stop there. My own Judas mind seemed hell bent on betraying me, tormenting me with memories of last night.

His face between my legs, his agile tongue diving into my sex...wrapping my legs around his waist as he gripped my hips...him slowly thrusting inside me, stretching me deliciously with that amazing thick cock...the earth-shattering orgasms...the utterly arousing hitch in his breathless voice when he came...lying on his chest and the whispered words as he kissed my forehead and pulled me tightly into his embrace.

 _Fuck_.

"So, I guess we'll take a brief break here, folks," Agent Wherever-The-Fuck droned. "We'll come back in about 20 minutes."

 _Thank god_.

I made a bee-line for the exit and took a deep draw of fresh air when I made it to the hallway. For a moment I had the temptation to pull out my phone and see if Nikolai had texted me.

_Oh wait, don't you remember? You blocked his number, hotshot._

_Ugh. Motherfucker_.

I walked down the hallway and took a right at the corner. And _thank you Jesus_ , it looked like there was an outside smokers balcony beyond two glass doors. The rain had apparently stopped, but the dark cloak of grumbling storm clouds remained. I stepped out into the chilly air and sighed. I walked to the railing and slouched over it, grateful for the escape from the claustrophobic press of four walls around me.

_C'mon, Y/N, get it together. Are you going to spend all day with him on your mind?_

Truthfully my mind was a complete quagmire, thick with speculations and admonishments. _Had he tried to text? Had he tried to call?_ I guess I would never know. I hoped that I was making the right decision by distancing myself from him, even though I desired so viscerally and so keenly to see him again and hear his voice.

 _But in all seriousness, how realistic was that desire?_ The inherent dangers of this situation were obvious. If my department found out I was having an affair with a suspected gangster, I had no doubt I would be forced to resign or worse. If any rival crew of the Pushkin Vors found out I was the sweetheart of one of the syndicate bosses, it would plaster an enormous target on my back. And what about the higher ups or even Vladimir Pushkin himself? What if he found out that one of his captains was having an illicit liaison with a cop? That could paint a target on both Nikolai's back and mine.

 _And let's not forget the FBI is in the mix of this deadly concoction_. _I'm acting as a double agent, a kind of sleeper cell with a mission to infiltrate the Russian mafia. What happens if Nikolai finds out_? Thanks to the ominous presence of one or more corrupt cops in the bureau, he already knew that I had been made an FBI liaison. And he learned that I was going to be at this conference. _How long can I sustain this utterly mad charade? Christ almighty, I need to stop thinking._...

I was so immersed in my thoughts, I didn't realize that I was no longer alone.

I heard the metallic click of a cigarette lighter and startled. I turned a saw a tall blonde man leaning against the wall. He was dressed in a sport coat and jeans, and there was a badge clipped to his belt. He smiled, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Hey, how's it going?"

I smiled coolly. "Hello."

"Some conference, huh? I haven't been this bored in ages." He laughed hollowly, shifting his feet. He seemed tense and discomfited, his blue eyes darting around the balcony.

I nodded. "Yeah, riveting stuff."

He took another hasty drag on his cigarette, stepping forward and extending his hand. "Frank Masters. Boston PD."

I shook his hand. "Y/N Y/L/N. New Orleans PD."

His answering smile was wide but didn't quite meet his eyes. "New Orleans, huh? So how'd you get roped into this snooze-fest?"

I regarded him for a moment. There was an oily unctuousness about him. He practically oozed with saccharine insincerity. "Oh you know the Feds, Frank," I smiled flatly. "They are always sticking their noses in police business."

"Yeah, fuckin' Feds..." he remarked, letting the comment trail off into an awkward moment of silence. He took a step closer, dropping his voice. "Listen Y/N, you and I have a uh...mutual 'friend'..."

I arched a brow. _Ah, here it comes_. "Is that so?"

"Yeah." He met my eyes steadily, though he seemed to be vastly uncomfortable in this moment. "He's been trying to reach you. You should answer the call."

 _Holy fuck. Nikolai. And this guy is obviously a cop on the Vor payroll_.

It didn't surprise me to think that Boston had its own faction of Russian mafia. It didn't even surprise me to think that Nikolai, obviously being a high ranking boss, had the kind of clout to issue an order in another Vor territory. What did surprise me was that talking to me was so important to Nikolai that he was willing to thrust one his minions into a veritable viper's nest of federal agents to deliver a message.

I cleared my throat. "I understand. Let me bum a cigarette, would you Frank?"

 _Christ almighty_. I hadn't smoked a cigarette since college, but in that moment it seemed oddly appropriate.

Masters retrieved his pack from his jacket and offered it to me. I plucked out a cigarette and handed it back to him. He smiled and lit it for me when I put it to my lips. I took a long drag, feeling the reminiscent burn in my throat.

"Listen Y/N," he said, his voice still low. "I know what it's like with these guys, the constant calls, being at their beck and call. It's crazy, I know." He looked around, as if making doubly sure we were alone. "Believe me there have been times I've wanted out. But it's not possible. Once you're in...you're in."

 _Ah, I see_. Masters obviously thought I was another cop on the Vor payroll. _Christ if he only knew the truth...._

I took another long drag of the cigarette before flicking it over the railing. "Thanks for the cigarette. See you around, Frank," I replied curtly and brushed past him to the doors.

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

I made myself a fresh cup of scorched coffee and loitered around the hallway until it seemed all the other stuffed suits had returned to the presentation. I took my phone out of my purse.

 _Fuck_.

I scrolled to the text history and pulled up Nikolai's contact. I hit the "unblock" icon.

And waited.

I pulled out the conference program and scanned it distractedly. It seemed that the lunch break was scheduled immediately after Agent Wherever-The-Fuck finished his tedious audio surveillance litany.

My phone rang.

_Holy shit._

I suppose I had been expecting a text from Nikolai, but not a call. I looked down at the screen incredulously. For a fleeting moment I was frozen, trapped between the craving to hear his voice and the fear of falling from that imagined precipice into...into the unknown.

"Hello?" I answered, grateful that my voice came out steadily.

"Good morning, angel."

 _My god his voice_. Only three words spoken in that deep melodious intonation, and they made my knees go weak. _Dammit_.

I took a quick glance around to make sure I was alone in the hallway. "Good morning, Nikolai."

"I've been trying to reach you all morning, Y/N," he said simply, his tone was mildly reprimanding.

"My apologies, Nikolai," I huffed out a laugh. "I suppose I didn't expect you to call knowing that I'd be in this conference today."

"I wanted to hear your voice, angel. I am dismayed to think that you wouldn't expect my call."

"Does it give you a perverse thrill to talk to me while I am surrounded by a sea of federal agents, Nikolai?"

"Federal agents are not what thrills me, Y/N." His voice was whiskey warm, sending tingles down my spine.

"Is that so? So what does thrill you, Mr. Itchenko?"

"A very exceptional woman." I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

I actually laughed in spite of myself. "Ah, I see. She must be something special to be worthy of your attentions. Anyone that I know?"

"Perhaps you do. She is truly a marvel. Beautiful, intelligent, and absolutely delectable. She is the epitome of grace and sensuality. She could tempt Christ himself off the cross. And her voice is utterly compelling."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes," he whispered. "Most especially when it is breathless in my ear."

I flushed. _Christ almighty_. "We can't do this Nikolai..."

"Have I done something to upset you, angel?"

"No, Nikolai...I just..."

"I wanted to stay with you last night, Y/N," he said seriously. "Unfortunately I had to...attend to other matters."

"No, no. It isn't that..."

"Did I perhaps displease you last night?"

I closed my eyes. "Last night was amazing...you are amazing, Nikolai," I said, startling myself a little with such a candid admission. "I just can't..."

I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't begin to explain the swirl of concerns in my mind.

The was a pregnant pause. "Y/N..." His voice was quiet, warm and earnest. "I cannot begin to describe how you..." He stopped. "How much you..." I heard him draw a deep breath. "Please do not preemptively anticipate the 'odds' at which you assume we will find ourselves."

I opened my eyes, staring blankly ahead. "We can't do this, Nikolai. This is...a folly." My vision swam briefly, ridiculously irrational tears threatening to fill my eyes.

"Don't do this," he said, his voice low and intense.

"I'm sorry, Nikolai. I have to go."

I ended the call and powered off my phone.

 _Fuck_.

 

 

 

 


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My god the last 24 hours had been so surreal. It's hard to believe...at this time last night I was lying on Nikolai's chest, wrapped in his arms as he kissed me tenderly. I had been sated and sore from the ferocity of his love-making, and so comfortable tangled in his tight embrace. 
> 
> Fuck.
> 
> The Fates must have been pulling an all-nighter, gleefully knitting strands of temptation into my wheel of fortune. My phone rang and I groaned. Lord, please don't tell me more maimed bodies have popped up...
> 
> I picked up my phone from the nightstand.
> 
> Holy fuck.
> 
> It's him.

Part Seven

 

I took a long drag of my cigarette, blowing out a swirling stream of smoke into the air.

 _My god_. There was no way I could have gone back into that conference room and listened to Agent Wherever-The-Fuck's monotonous voice while my mind seethed with burning recriminations.

I had taken the elevator down to the lobby and walked out to the bracing cool air of the street. I wandered down to the nearest corner store and bought a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and a more palatable cup of hot coffee. Now here I was sitting in the courtyard outside the hotel lobby, smoking yet another cigarette.

_God I am a fucking mess today. The only thing that would make this pitiful scene complete would be if I was simultaneously drinking booze out of a hip flask. Do they sell those around here anywhere? Christ, stop it Y/N!_

I saw a herd of stuffed suits slowly making their way outside. _Shit is it lunchtime already? How long have I been down here?_

I saw John Morgan step out and look around, shrugging on a jacket. His eyes fell on me and he smiled as he walked over. "I thought maybe you had ducked out on me again," he smiled.

I returned his smile, hoping it didn't appear to be forced. "No, just taking a reprieve from Agent Audio Surveillance."

He chuckled. "Yeah, Herb can be an insufferable bore sometimes. So a smoker, huh? I wouldn't have guessed."

I laughed lightly. "Everybody needs a vice, I suppose."

"Too true," he grinned. "You ready to take a walk?"

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

We sat at a secluded table in the rear of the diner. Truthfully I had zero appetite, but I didn't want John to think anything was amiss. We had both ordered a "fish and chips" plate, and I was idly picking at my fries.

"Sure I can't interest you in a clam chowder?" he grinned. "Best in the city."

I shook my head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"So, tell me what's it like being a police liaison to the Feds, Y/N?" he smiled. "Does it feel like you're being pulled over to the dark side?"

I laughed. "Honestly I can't say yet. It's only just begun."

"Well, it certainly says a lot about your professionalism that they chose you. Frankly, I am jealous."

"Why?"

He sighed, rubbing absently at his beard. "We've had some...issues with the local PD. I can't say that I have a lot trust in them. Especially on the organized crime war-front. I wouldn't be surprised if Boston PD has a whole squadron of compromised cops."

 _Such as Masters_.

I nodded. "I understand. So Susan told you to seek me out? I guess I wasn't hard to find, I don't exactly fit in with you guys."

"She did," he smiled. "Said I couldn't miss you. That you were absolutely beautiful."

I laughed demurely. "Susan is very kind."

He looked at me seriously, his dark eyes alight. "She isn't wrong, though."

I shifted slightly in my seat. "It uh...seems that you two are very much alike in kindness. I don't think I'm worthy of such praises."

 _Christ almighty. Please tell me the fucking director of the Boston FBI isn't hitting on me_.

He grinned and popped a fry into his mouth. "Professional and down-to-earth. I like that."

I smiled hopefully convincingly. He was a handsome guy, it was true. Rugged good looks, a lovely smile, mysterious dark eyes. Maybe under different circumstances I would have taken Mr. Morgan for a test drive. As it was, the only good looks that even remotely interested me were on a man that I was currently avoiding. The only eyes that occupied my thoughts were smoky green and devastatingly beautiful. _God help me._

I cleared my throat. "So what kind of madness have you guys been dealing with up here?"

"It's actually been relatively good recently. Six months ago was a very different story. The Vors were very active. One day things were quiet, and the next we were inundated with Russian gangsters. We had a very, very bloody few weeks."

"That sounds familiar. We were experiencing something very similar in New Orleans. Our intelligence revealed that there was a factional war in the works, but thankfully it seemed to end with Matrovsky's murder."

"Ah, Matrovsky. Yes, I heard he finally met his end. Thank Christ for that. Any factional war is always a bloodbath, but a Vor factional war...that is truly a thing to behold."

"Yes, so I've seen."

"I wouldn't breathe too easy just yet, though Y/N. These things have a way of getting messier long before they get better."

"Wonderful," I sighed. "I'm sure we'll have our work cut out for us. So how did things finally settle down in Boston?"

"It was a fucking mess. Once Itchenko left though, it died down. His leaving was the harbinger of relative peace, thank god."

 _Holy fuck_. "Nikolai Itchenko?" I asked with a cough.

"Yeah. He's a major player in the game, believe me. We could never prove anything, but the handwriting was on the wall. Pushkin only lets Itchenko off the leash when he absolutely means business."

I nodded, though my insides were writhing with tension. "What do you know about him?"

He scratched idly on his beard. "I did a lot of homework on Itchenko. The unspoken word is that he's Pushkin's right hand man. Vicious son of a bitch. I doubt that any rival Vor who ever laid eyes on him lived to tell the tale. He's probably the highest ranking enforcer who's ever stepped foot on American soil. We don't know a lot about him before he joined Spetznaz and the secret police. Most of the things I heard were just speculation."

I nodded again numbly. "Such as?"

"He grew up as an orphan. Some people say his parents were murdered by the KGB, others say they were junkies and died of overdose. Itchenko spent most of his childhood as a ward of the government, juvenile work camps and such. Lots of abuse, lots of violence."

 _My god_.

He popped another fry in his mouth and chewed. _Christ almighty_ , I don't think I had ever been more on the edge of my seat than I was in that moment.

Thankfully after a moment he cleared this throat and continued. "I heard from a somewhat reliable source in Moscow that he was adopted at 12 years old by a very wealthy family. The husband and wife allegedly turned up murdered several months later and Itchenko was shipped off back to government custody. If I was a gambling man, I'd bet that the young Mr. Itchenko had something to do with that."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "You see it all the time with these violent, troubled types. They grow up with no concept of love, affection, kindness. All they know is violence and pain. You put them in a warm and welcoming environment and they can't function. I've seen it in juvenile delinquents before. In a weird way, they don't think they deserve comfort or happiness. They anticipate the return to misery and in the end, they end up bringing it about. And at the end of the day, those sociopathic kids turn into sociopathic adults."

Where once my insides had been writhing now felt hollow and leaden. "So did you ever meet him?"

"Yeah, once. We pulled him in for an interview, but it never went anywhere. I really wish I could have nailed him," he sighed.

"My, my," Little Miss Subconscious reared her head. "If only the handsome Mr. Morgan knew that you were the one nailing Nikolai last night. Or was it the other way around?"

I shifted in my seat discomfitedly. _Christ almighty_.

John met my eyes warmly. "You doing alright? You've hardly eaten a thing."

I cleared my throat. "Too much coffee," I smiled slightly. "Always steals my appetite."

"I hear you. You about ready to get back?"

"Yeah, sure"

I took a sip of my drink. That's when I saw Masters through the window at the front of the restaurant. And he saw me. _Fuck_.

He was standing outside across the street at a newsstand, none too convincingly looking at a newspaper. _Is he tailing me?_ He couldn't have missed the sight of John Morgan at my table. _Motherfucking fuck_.

I tore my eyes away, pretending I hadn't seen him. I grabbed my purse and followed John to the counter. He waved me off when I pulled out my wallet. "Nah, my treat," he grinned.

When we walked outside, Masters was gone. We walked back to the hotel chatting companionably, though my mind was a whirl of distraction. As we reached the elevators inside, John turned.

"I hate to eat and run, but I need to swing by the office for a few. Just in case I don't catch you later..." He withdrew a card from his jacket and handed it to me. "My card," he smiled. "My cell is in the back if you ever need to reach me. Don't be a stranger," he winked playfully.

I took it from him. "Thanks, John. And thank you for lunch too."

He grinned. "It was my pleasure, Y/N. I'm glad I got a chance to meet you." He extended his hand.

I shook it and returned his smile. "You too, John."

He turned to leave and I stepped into the elevator. As the door slid closed, I huffed out a breath.

_My god. So that's what Susan had meant last week when she said Nikolai was acting completely out of character with me. By all accounts he was a cold and calculating man, a brutally efficient assassin. Certainly not the kind of man susceptible to a hearts and flowers romance. So why now?_

_So why me?_

The doors opened to the third floor and I stepped out. A small crowd of agents was returning to the conference room. I decided to head to the ladies room before I subjected myself to another life sentence of boredom in the next presentation. After I finished washing my hands, I pulled my phone out of my purse and powered it back on.

 _Holy fuck_. Eleven missed calls from Nikolai's number. No voicemails. No texts.

A missed call from Jacque. I hit the call button, welcome for the distraction.

"Hey, girl. How's the conference going?" he answered.

I sighed dully. "Brutal. I just wanted to check in. Anything been going on back home?"

"Nah, it's been good. So rubbing elbows with the Feds isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

"You have no idea," I laughed mirthlessly. "I'm gonna head back tonight, so I'll probably see you in the morning."

"Ok girl, have a safe flight. You be careful out there."

"I will," I smiled paley. "Talk to you soon."

 

@@@@@@@@@@

 

The last few hours of the conference were a complete blur. The second presentation was something to do with developing criminal informants, but I honestly didn't retain a single word of it. My mind was a fog of swirling contentions and all of it revolved around _him_.

Before the last speaker had even finished, I made my way down to the lobby, collected my luggage and hailed a cab. I checked in at the airport and made my way to the terminal bar nearest to my gate.

I pulled out a stool at the counter and ordered a rum and coke from the bored bartender. Selena Gomez's "The Heart Wants What It Wants" was warbling somewhere nearby on a staticky speaker.

 _The bed's getting cold and you're not here_  
_The future that we hold is so unclear_  
_But I'm not alive until you call_  
_And I'll bet the odds against it all_  
_Save your advice 'cause I won't hear_  
_You might be right but I don't care_  
_There's a million reasons why I should give you up_  
_But the heart wants what it wants_

I sighed heavily. _Ugh. Fuck you, Selena._

I had been trying so fucking hard to put Nikolai out of my mind, but it seemed like he haunted me wherever I went. His voice sounded again so clearly in my head, intense and passionate.

_"Don't do this..."_

_Christ_. Maybe it was true what they say: that's it's so easy to keep your feelings for someone in check, that is until you sleep with them. After that, you're basically fucked. _Christ Y/N, you're being ridiculous._

_But my god, what if it's true?_

_What if he truly is falling in love with me?_

"Oh darling, you already know the answer to that," Little Miss Subconscious chimed. "You knew it the moment you made love to him. He's head over heels." She smirked. "And so are you."

_I'm falling in love with him?_

_Fuck._

_I'm falling in love with him._

I took a deep drink of my watery rum and coke. My phone began to ring shrilly. A thrill of anticipation roared through my veins, sending my pulse pounding in my ears. I pulled my phone out of my purse with a trembling hand.

_No, it's not him. It's Lt. Stevens._

_Fuck._

_Am I relieved?_

_Or disappointed?_

"Y/L/N," Stevens said when I answered. "What time do you get in tomorrow?"

"I'm actually on my way back tonight, sir. I'm catching an earlier flight back."

"Excellent, excellent. We are having a briefing first thing in the morning. We are having a lot of activity right now. Recent surveillance is leading us to believe that this issue with the Vors isn't over. It looks like the Balkov crew may be trying to ally with the Irish. Shit may go sideways around here very soon."

"I understand. My flight should be in by eight. I have to swing by the office to get my car."

"Very good. We should still be here. Heard anything from the Feds on this?"

"No, sir. Nothing yet." _Fuck_. I hadn't even begun to think how I'd explain this trip to Susan yet.

"Okay Y/L/N. I'll see you when you get in."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@@

 

It was nearly 9:00 by the time the cab pulled away from headquarters. I tossed my luggage into my car and made my way inside the building. I had called Lt. Stevens when I landed and he had asked me to meet him upstairs.

I walked through the dark lobby to the elevator and swiped my pass card at the sensor. The doors opened on the third floor and Lt. Stevens was already there.

"Y/L/N, thank Christ you're here." He looked harried, haggard. "I just got the call from Martinez. We've got two fresh bodies at the riverfront in the French Quarter."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

I followed Stevens down to the crime scene, which was just off of Decatur street in the long riverfront parking area that extended beyond the Toulouse station of the streetcar line.

We passed through the blockade of patrol officers keeping a small crowd of curious tourists out of the area. I parked and stepped out of my car into the cool night air and walked towards the line of crime scene tape.

The towering spires of St. Louis cathedral glowed serenely from Jackson Square. I heard the distant calliope song of the Steamboat Natchez whistling softly in the distance. It was strange to imagine that two bodies had been recovered in such an eerily peaceful location. There were two NOPD patrol cars parked ahead with their spotlights trained on a seemingly nondescript black sedan parked in one of the rows.

I saw Martinez standing up ahead, talking on his cellphone. He looked up as Stevens and I approached. He sighed. "Well Lt., I think these are the same two guys from Finnegan's the other night."

"Fuck. Should have known this shit wasn't over," Stevens coughed.

"Nice to have you back, Y/N," Martinez smiled. "It looks like you made it back just in time for the fireworks to start again."

I laughed darkly. "I suppose I did. Whatcha got, Sarge?"

"We've been doing surveillance on the Irish the past few days and surprise-surprise two nights ago we see two Russians showing up at the Finnegan's bar uptown. Previous intelligence reports affiliated the guys as potential members of the Balkov crew. Since all the shit happened with Matrovsky, we were thinking they were maybe making a bid to ally with the Irish." He shrugged. "And now it seems they paid the price."

I looked over at the black sedan, illuminated starkly in the bright spotlights. The trunk was cracked ajar. There was a dark drip from the bottom of the trunk that was pooling wetly on the pavement.

"These two drunk morons were stumbling around back here and saw the blood leaking out of the car." Martinez nodded towards two young men standing off to the side speaking to a patrol officer. They looked like college frat boys, clad in sweatpants and flip flops with Mardi Gras beads around their necks. One of them had a bright green sweatshirt that said "Show Your Tits!".

 _Lovely_.

"Shit, the fucking vultures are here," Stevens grumbled.

I looked down the long parking aisle to the patrol blockade. A Channel 4 news van had apparently pulled up behind the crowd of tourists. A cameraman was already setting up his video camera on a tripod in the grass.

"Let's see what we have, Sarge," I said. Martinez led the way to the sedan and lifted the lid of the trunk with a gloved hand. _Holy fuck_.

"Like opening up a can of bloody mayhem, huh?" Martinez smirked.

Inside the trunk, two large men in dark suits had apparently been shoved tightly inside. The were sloppily entwined, their arms and legs tangled and askew. Both of them had large gunshot wounds to the forehead and that were still trickling slowly, the thick blood only partially congealed. Their dull lifeless eyes were partially open, staring blankly ahead. Judging by the dark wet sheen of their clothes, the headshots weren't the only wounds. Small wet tears in their dark shirts hinted at multiple stabbing or slicing wounds. Clearly after whatever tortured they had suffered, the headshots had paid the insurance.

"We got lucky with this one," Martinez shook his head. "If the trunk hadn't been leaking blood, it probably would have been days before anyone noticed the smell of rotting corpses. Identification of the stiffs would have been much more difficult."

"Yeah, lucky us," I sighed. "Anything on the car?"

"Nah, we ran the license plate number and it comes back to some bullshit leasing company that doesn't seem to exist anymore. The Coroner's Office is on their way. Once the bodies are removed, we'll tow it to headquarters for further processing."

I nodded. "Anyone from the task force made contact with John Looney?"

John "Little John" Looney was the supposed chief figurehead of the Irish cartel. He was a short, squat man with white hair, beady blue eyes, and an enormous Napoleon complex. Pompous and high-handed, he was a frequent sight at any political function in the city. He passed himself off a construction company CEO, but everyone knew his hands were dirty with much more than just concrete dust. Finnegan's was just one of several bars he owned in the city.

Martinez shook his head again. "Nah, we were biding our time to see what was cooking with the Russians. Didn't want it to seem like we noticed any red flags."

"I'd say we've got a big red flag now," Stevens grumbled again. "Martinez, pull the boys off the Irish surveillance for now and send them over to the suspected Balkov hotspots. This shit may not be over."

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

After the Russians were bagged and tagged by the Coroner's Office, I made my way home hoping to catch a few hours sleep before I had to be up again and back at the office.

I called Mel on my way home to let her know I had made it back to town.

"Figured you were back," she laughed. "I saw you on the news tonight at that murder scene."

"Ugh," I groaned. "Wonderful."

"Nah, girl it was good. You looked sexy," she giggled. "So what happened? They said somebody found two bodies in the trunk of a car?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Looks like more fucking gangster drama."

"I see. Speaking of fucking gangsters, darling...have you heard from your sexy Russian?"

I sighed again. My chest suddenly felt tight and constricted. "Yeah, about that..."

I told Mel about the events of the morning, carefully omitting the involvement of Masters. She was silent a moment when I finished.

"So that's kind of where it's at, Mel. He tried to call a few times after that, but my phone was off."

"Shit," she whispered.

"What?"

"I knew he had it bad for you, girl...I guess I didn't realize how bad you had it for him."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't be running from him unless you really felt something for him, Y/N."

I swallowed. Her statement hung in the air, looming like an oppressive fog. After a moment, I cleared my throat. "I dunno, Mel. I think I just need to step back and regroup for a while."

"I hear you, honey. Really good sex has a way of clouding your mind. Believe me, I know."

I laughed. "Ugh, stop! I don't even want to know! Jacque is like my brother."

She giggled. "Well I could tell you things about your brother that would make a porn star blush, girl."

Mel kept me on the phone the entire way home. We gossiped and laughed, and it was a welcome distraction. I hung up with her as I pulled into my driveway. It was a relief when I finally unlocked my door and stepped inside. _Thank you Jesus, home at last_.

Artemis curled around my legs happily. "Momma's home," I smiled. "I bet you're more than ready to go out after being cooped up, huh?"

After she darted outside, I dragged my luggage wearily to the bedroom. I looked over to the dresser where Nikolai's now-wilted bouquet and the glittering Faberge egg mocked me silently. _Christ_. I took a long hot shower, put on my pajamas and dropped gracelessly into bed.

 _My god_ the last 24 hours had been so surreal. _It's hard to believe...at this time last night I was lying on Nikolai's chest, wrapped in his arms as he kissed me tenderly. I had been sated and sore from the ferocity of his love-making, and so comfortable tangled in his tight embrace._

_Fuck._

The Fates must have been pulling an all-nighter, gleefully knitting strands of temptation into my wheel of fortune. My phone rang and I groaned. _Lord, please don't tell me more maimed bodies have popped up..._

I picked up my phone from the nightstand.

_Holy fuck._

_It's him._

I stared down at my phone, watching the illuminated screen practically screaming his phone number at me. My hands were trembling, my fingers itching to swipe the screen and answer. I couldn't even describe the pervasive warmth that flooded my stomach as I imagined hearing the sound of his voice.

_No, Y/N. Goddammit, no!_

My pulse thundered in my ears as I sat frozen, pinioned with indecision. Mercifully, the phone stopped ringing. I dragged a breath shakily into my lungs and set the phone back on the nightstand.

_Christ almighty. What the fuck am I doing?_

I fell back on my pillow with a huff. _Hiding. I'm fucking hiding._

I wished I could say that deep down I was desperately craving to see him...to hear him. But that wasn't true. The truth was that it wasn't "deep down" at all. It was barely contained by the barest membrane of self-control at the surface of my mind. And it pulsed wildly against that restraint, threatening to break through at any moment.

 _Get a grip, Y/N. Remember? You're supposed to be taking a step back and regrouping_.

I rolled into my pillow with an admittedly defeated sigh. I felt like a addict jonesing for a fix. _But what kind of rehab is there for this kind of drug? Lovedrunk-For-Sexy-Russian-Gangsters Anonymous?_

I tossed and turned interminably that night. My dreams were haunted by heated whispers, ghostly caresses and the enticing scents of vetiver, cardamom and bergamot.

  
@@@@@@@@@

 

The following morning was uncommonly chilly. I had staggered out of bed zombie-like and muddle headed. It was the kind of morning that made you wish coffee could be dispensed in an IV drip.

Little Miss Subconscious had smirked darkly at me as I groggily showered and dressed. "So how's your first day of recovery looking, Amy Winehouse?

_Ugh. I really hated her sometimes._

I had firmly decided to meet the day as optimistically as possible. _And there is no better way to improve your mood than to feel poised and fashionable, right?_

I decided to wear my black pencil skirt and heels with my dress shirt. I topped it off with very chic thigh high pantyhose concealed underneath and secured with a ridiculously expensive black lace garter belt. I pulled my hair back into an elegantly messy ponytail and spent special attention on my makeup. _Yes, this is going to be a good day dammit._

I was actually starting to feel quite dauntless and collected by the time I walked into the conference room for the task force meeting that morning.

Unfortunately that brief reprieve was soon utterly fucking annihilated.

I took an open seat next to Stuart Fletcher at the conference table. He grinned amiably at me. "Our federal liaison has returned! How was the conference? I bet it was great!"

I managed a polite smile. "It wasn't nearly as glamorous as you're thinking, Stuart. Believe me."

"Well, the shit is most definitely hitting the fan again, folks," Martinez began once everyone had arrived. "John Looney turned up at the University Hospital emergency room last night beaten to a fuckin' pulp."

_Holy fuck._

"He wasn't the only one," Martinez continued. "Two more of his Irish thugs showed up with non-life-threatening gunshot wounds in the gut. And surprise-surprise they can't "recall" how they got them."

"I'm guessing Looney is having a case of temporary amnesia as well," I remarked.

"Actually that would have been the least of his problems," Martinez smirked. "He ain't saying anything because he ain't conscious. Beaten within probably an inch of his useless fuckin' life. The ER doc said his face looked like he got in a boxing match with a sledgehammer."

"The ER is supposed to call us if he regains consciousness anytime soon," Lt. Stevens said shaking his head. "I'd bet my salary that the Pushkin crew made our surveillance team last night. As soon as the team moved out, they moved in."

Davidson coughed out a laugh. "I dunno, Lt. I can think of a dozen people who'd love to smash Looney's face in."

Stevens glared. "This isn't a joke, Davidson. It's very possible this is just the beginning of a rash of bloody fucking havoc. You and Killian and Rogers get the van stocked and set up surveillance back at Finnegan's. The rest of us are gonna start hitting the street. I want visible police presence at every Irish hidey-hole in town."

Davidson sulked morosely, clearly chastised.

"Myself and the rest of my guys are going to start working the double homicide," Martinez said. "Any Russians you guys see anywhere near these Irish locations should be reported immediately. We'll try to reconvene everybody this evening. Keep your eyes open out there, folks."

As I rose from my seat, Lt. Stevens motioned me over. "Y/L/N, Fletcher. Hang back at minute." 

Stuart looked at me curiously and I shrugged. Stevens waited until the room had cleared before he spoke again.

"Y/L/N, I want you to go make inquiries over at Samovar about this."

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

My heart seemed to trip and restart. My pulse amped, roaring cacophonously in my ears. I cleared my throat, carefully settling my expression into a look of calm though my stomach was doing backflips. "Lt., I doubt there's any point doing that. Itchenko isn't going give us anything remotely close to useful information."

"I know Y/L/N. The last Itchenko interview may have been a dud, but I'd like to try again. Even if it goes nowhere, at least it sends the message that we are paying attention and that we're not completely oblivious. Take Fletcher here with you. Show him how one of our elite detectives operates."

Stuart was practically shuddering with delighted enthusiasm. I repressed my own discomfited shudder of apprehension. I cleared my throat again. "I really don't think that's such a good idea, Lt. It might be better to just set up a very unsubtle surveillance."

He smiled warmly. "Nonsense, Y/L/N. I have every confidence in you." He nodded and turned to leave, the issue effectively closed.

I drew a bracing breath, every nerve practically humming with expectant anticipation. I imagined the Fates had gleefully translated "step back and regroup" into "thrust yourself back into the flames of utter lustful destruction"

_Holy fuck. I'm going to see him again._

 

@@@@@@@@@@


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Good morning, Detective. This is a most pleasant surprise," he smiled. 
> 
> My god, that voice was absolutely lethal to my self-control.
> 
> "Mr. Itchenko," I replied, grateful that my voice came out steadily. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Part Eight

 

I excused myself from Stuart, telling him that I wanted to check in at my office before we left. I tried to slow my breathing and rein in my racing pulse as I walked out of the conference room. I was nearly stable by the time I walked through the doors into the Robbery Division.

Miss Belinda looked up as I came down the hallway. "Well, well, there's our long lost girl. Don't you look nice today."

I smiled. "Thank you, Miss Belinda. How have things been around here?"

"Not bad, honey. Heard you and the task force boys have been busy though."

"You have no idea, Miss Belinda." I sighed. "Believe me I have been missing this office."

She smiled beatifically. "Well, they are lucky to have you. Don't let them forget it."

I laughed demurely. "I dunno about all that."

Jacque stuck his head out from our cubicle, grinning. "Thought I heard your dulcet tones, girl. How was your trip?"

I walked over to my desk and dropped into my chair. "It was...uh...eventful. But for the most part horrifically dull. I got back just in time for the madness to begin again apparently."

"Yeah, saw you on the news last night," he grinned. "Not the assignment you thought it would be, huh?"

"Not by a long shot," I sighed with a mirthless chuckle.

"So how come you're all gussied up today, girl? You giving news interviews now?" he laughed.

I plucked a pen out of its holder on my desk and flung it at him. It hit him squarely in the chest and he laughed even more raucously.

"Very funny," I grumbled. "Actually..." I paused. "I'm headed out with Fletcher in a few minutes to do some interviews in reference to our latest rash of mayhem.”

"That little nerdy guy from white collar crime?" He grinned. "So who's first on y'all's hit list?"

I sighed. "Itchenko."

Jacque raised a brow. "Ooooh. 'Boyfriend', huh?" he teased. "Then I guess I should expect another bouquet of flowers to show up, hmm?"

I rolled my eyes. _Christ if he only knew...._

"You're quite the comedian today, Jacque."

"Oh it's no joke, girl. Dangerous thing to dangle you in front of him apparently."

I shifted discomfitedly in my chair. Deflection seemed like a safe option at the moment "You're reading way too much into it. I doubt very much that Itchenko wants to pursue a cop that's tied to the Feds."

Jacque looked at me seriously. "Take it from another man. All of that shit doesn't even come into the picture when a woman is involved. What he wants is your ankles on his shoulders."

I gaped at him, at once offended and at the same time incredibly distracted by the provocative mental image that rose to mind. I shook it from my mind with frustration. "Jacque Leveaux! You ought to be ashamed."

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry, darlin'. Just calling it like I see it. The guy is bad news. I just want you to be careful."

I shot him a pointed look. "Your 'concern' is duly noted. Believe me, I can handle it." _God, I hope so_.

He nodded, apparently satisfied. "Don't be mad at me, chere. I just..." He paused. "I just worry about you."

"I know, Jacque," I sighed. "I appreciate it."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

I met up with Stuart down in the lobby. He smiled enthusiastically and tugged nervously on his glasses as we walked out to my car. He had brought a notebook with him. _My god, this poor guy has no clue._

"So this Itchenko guy is the real deal, huh? A real live gangster?" he grinned excitedly.

I huffed out a pale laugh. "That is the rumor."

_Poor Stuart, you are completely out of your league, aren't you?_

"And you've met him before? Wow, that's really something. The most excitement I usually see is trying to hack locked servers. You know we had this one case..."

Stuart continued to rattle on about god knows what, but I had effectively tuned out. _Fuck_ , I was a tangle of nerves. Nikolai's handsome face swam to the surface of my mind and warmth flooded me, unbidden and inescapable. _Dammit! Keep your cool, Y/N. You can handle this._

Stuart continued to babble as I drove us to Samovar. Much too soon we were pulling up to the warehouse. My hands and legs were tingling, like I was standing on a high ledge overlooking a seemingly bottomless drop. I repressed a grumble of frustration. _Get a fucking grip, girl._

I stepped out onto the cobblestone street. Workers in coveralls were unloading crates at the open bay doors. They paid us no mind as we stepped up to the front door. I schooled my face into a mask of collected repose and pressed the buzzer purposefully.

Within moments, my old friend Boulder appeared at the door. He said nothing and stood aside for us to pass. _Christ almighty, do they think I'm the boss's girl? Have I been given an unspoken all-access pass?_ I looked over at Stuart. He was figiting nervously and looked markedly pale as he eyed Boulder.

"Mr. Itchenko is upstairs," Boulder remarked gruffly.

I nodded at him and moved to the elevator. _Fuck, I hope Stuart is too nervous to take note of the fact that I know my way to Nikolai's office_. I punched the button for the top floor.

Stuart continued to figit, yanking on his glasses. "Maybe I should have..uh...waited in the car."

I gave him a small smile. "Nothing to be nervous about. We are just here for a friendly chat."

_Christ almighty, I need to take my own advice._

I clenched and unclenched my quavering hands surreptitiously as the elevator made its rattling ascent. All too soon, we reached the top floor. I deliberately steadied my tingling hand as I pulled back the accordion gate.

Up ahead the door to Nikolai's office stood open, yawning wide as if waiting to devour me. _Fuck_ , it seemed like an incredibly long walk down that hallway. The muted sound of my heels on the carpet seemed to sync with the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I suddenly felt hyper aware of myself, the brush of my clothing over my flushed skin, the taut restraint of the garters on my thighs.

I paused at the office door and drew in a silent bracing breath as I stepped inside.

And there he was, seated at his desk and looking incredibly and completely unfairly poised. _And incredibly and completely unfairly gorgeous._ He was wearing that same cobalt blue tie with his dark and sharply tailored suit. That same tie from the night at Matryoshka. _Fuck!_

He was leaning back in his chair, one hand cradled under his chin with a finger draped over his lips. There was a rapt and appraising expression on his face, as if he had been waiting for me. I felt incredibly flushed. _Christ almighty_. It was as if those beautiful green eyes had a magnetic pull, and my body felt inexorably drawn to him.

I sensed rather than saw that Stuart shuffled in behind me. My eyes didn't leave Nikolai's. A small secret smile ghosted over his plush lips, cryptic amusement written in the delicate crinkles around his eyes. He stood, tugging on his waistcoat and fluidly buttoning his jacket. He approached with those same damnably lithe movements.

"Good morning, Detective. This is a most pleasant surprise," he smiled. _My god, that voice was absolutely lethal to my self-control_.

"Mr. Itchenko," I replied, grateful that my voice came out steadily. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

 _My god_. I was no doubt incredibly lucky that Stuart was there. I couldn't even describe the insistent and completely irrational compulsion I felt to grab Nikolai by that beautiful blue tie and kiss him. The thought made my lips tingle traitorously.

I had made no move to extend my hand, but he reached down and grasped it firmly in his. That familiar electric tingle flared warmly and more intense than I had ever felt it before. His eyes never left mine as he brushed his plush lips over my knuckles and kissed them. "I can assure you, Detective. The pleasure is entirely mine."

He held my gaze, a whisper of unspoken communication in his eyes. He squeezed my hand gently as he lowered it from his mouth. I felt frozen, trapped in that smoldering stare that cut right through me, merciless and raw.

I cleared my throat, desperate to break the spell of that charged moment. "Mr. Itchenko, I'd like you to meet Detective Fletcher."

I thought I glimpsed a reluctant flare in Nikolai's eyes as he tore them away from mine. A charming smile graced his features as he turned to Stuart.

"Detective Fletcher, a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand to Stuart. That's when I saw it. The knuckles of his right hand were torn and scabbed. Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

_John Looney. He beat the living hell out of John Looney. Holy fuck._

Stuart shook Nikolai's hand. "L-l-likewise, Mr. Itchenko," he stuttered.

"Please do have a seat, detectives," Nikolai smiled. Stuart walked ahead of me to the chairs in front of the desk. Nikolai waited a beat for Stuart to pass us and reached out to me, trailing his hand down my arm in a secret tantalizing caress. The warmth of his touch simmered into my skin. My eyes darted nervously to his and I quickly moved my arm out of his reach. I was almost sure I sure I saw the briefest look of pained disappointment in his eyes.

I took the seat next to Stuart as Nikolai moved to his seat behind the desk. "Please tell me why I have the pleasure of your company today, detectives."

I steeled my nerve, meeting his eyes. "We had a homicide last night, Mr. Itchenko. Two unidentified Russians in the trunk of a car at the riverfront."

He smiled. "Yes, I saw that on the news. What a terrible tragedy. How can I be of assistance to you?" His green eyes regarded me so acutely. I resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutinizing gaze.

I dropped my eyes and cleared my throat, completely unsure how to proceed. The weight of everything unspoken lay thick and heavy in the air. When I looked up again and met Nikolai's eyes, I saw that he was watching me intently. My discomfort must have been evident on my face. His cool polite expression of interest faltered ever so slightly, replaced with the briefest look of concerned sympathy.

It was Nikolai's turn to clear his throat. "We have had several new inquiries of employment here recently. Perhaps you'd like to have a look and see if any of the applicants resemble your two unfortunate victims. Please give me a moment."

He reached over to the phone on his right and pressed what I assumed to be an intercom button. "Ivan, edi syuda," he said crisply.

I smiled politely. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Itchenko. You are very kind."

He met my eyes again. "Not at all. I am...delighted."

Boulder appeared in the doorway. "Ivan," Nikolai said. "Would you be so kind as to take Detective Fletcher here to see our employment records?"

Boulder nodded mutely.

"Ivan," Nikolai continued pointedly. " _Ne toropites_."

_Do not hurry._

_Fuck_.

Boulder gestured to the door as he looked down at Stuart. "You vill come with me please."

Poor Stuart looked positively terrified. I gave him a reassuring smile as if nothing was amiss. He rose from his chair and clutched his notebook to his chest protectively. He followed Boulder out the door.

I knew that whatever this play was, it was an obvious ruse to get Stuart out of the room. _To leave Nikolai and I here. Alone._

I met Nikolai's eyes again, momentarily startled by the unexpected intensity of his gaze. "I have been trying to reach you, Y/N." His voice was a low chastising rumble. "Why have you been eluding me?"

I felt a flush bloom in my cheeks. "I would have thought it was obvious, Nikolai."

"No. It is not," he replied seriously, his tone ardent and earnest. _Christ almighty_ , his expression was so vehemently raw and candid.

"What has happened to your hand, Nikolai?" I deflected, desperate to avoid the topic of discussion.

A slow smile curled over his lips, the shutters quickly closing behind his eyes. "Is that why you are here, Detective?"

I regarded him intently. I drew a steadying breath. "There are a great many things unsaid between you and I, Nikolai. And it is precisely those things that put us at odds."

"I am dismayed to hear so. What odds do you speak of?"

"Let's start with Matrovsky."

"Yes I heard that Mr. Matrovsky met with a particularly grisly end." The corner of his mouth turned up in a small deadly smile.

I managed a defiant smile in reply. "Yes, he did. What can you tell me about that?"

"Are you inquiring on an official basis, Detective?" His question was clipped and curt.

"I think 'official' went out the window the moment we kissed, Mr. Itchenko."

The barb hit its intended target. His collected expression faltered slightly. He paused. I watched as his jaw tensed into a hard line.

"Matrovsky was a pig. I would have thought the New Orleans police would be ecstatic to have one less gangster on their hands."

I continued recklessly on. “But it didn't end with Matrovsky did it? The Pushkin Vors aren't finished securing their position are they?”

He said nothing, regarding me keenly. His expression darkened. "Is that what truly concerns you, Detective?"

I leaned closer to him from across the desk. "I need to know if there is going to be further bloodshed, Nikolai."

The cold and calculating look in his eyes was almost painful to see. The moral high ground seemed to be slipping from beneath my feet.

"Nikolai...please..." I murmured softly.

My hand reached out of its own accord, moving across the desk and covering his hand.

As if by some dark magic, I saw the cold and calculating look vanish from his expression. He looked down at my hand. He slowly turned his wrist and covered my hand with his. The gesture was so simple, but its tenderness seemed to tear at my heart. When he met my eyes again, his gaze was so vulnerably unguarded, it hooked at that wound in my heart and utterly ripped it asunder.

We stared into each other's eyes wordlessly. "Nikolai..." My voice was a quavering whisper.

The air in the room was suddenly electric, dense and all-encompassing. He rose from his chair and advanced on me, his smoldering gaze was fifty different shades of utter sin. Desire pooled hotly in my stomach as I rose to my feet.

In a movement so fast I couldn't even register it, he dragged me roughly into his embrace. And the next moment he was kissing me, hot and wet and desperately demanding. His hand snaked up to my ponytail and he twisted it savagely in his grip,  
forcing my head back. He laid claim to my throat with hungry feverous kisses, dragging his mouth possessively along my skin.

"Nikolai..." My voice sounded so utterly wrecked, but the sound was soon extinguished as he again crashed his lips against mine. And _my god_ he kissed me so desperately and passionately, I was immediately lost in his taste. _Christ almighty_ , it was as if I had been starved for his taste. The scent of his delicious cologne flooded my senses, drowning my whisper-thin resolve.

With a barely tenable surge of effort, I pulled away and gasped into his mouth. "Nikolai we can't-"

"I don't care-" he growled and claimed my lips again. He backed me into the edge of the desk. His hands gripped my ass ravenously, roughly. He lifted me bodily off of my feet, placing me on top of the desk and moving between my thighs. _God dammit why does he keep putting me up on tabletops? It’s so unfairly fucking hot!_

His kiss was so fucking needy and inelegantly fierce. His hands moved possessively up my thighs and under my skirt. When his fingertips met my garters he groaned and gripped them tightly in his fists. _My god_ , the sound of that torrid groan shot directly to my core. My panties were instantly soaked. He grasped my hips, pulling them flush with his. And _oooohhh god_ , the thick solid outline of his cock pressed into me insistently. A debilitating ache flared hungrily in my core.

I broke away from his embrace with another breathless gasp. “This isn’t Boston, Nikolai. Thirty-six hours ago was a very different time."

“Thirty-six hours ago you were screaming my name, angel," he growled savagely in my ear. _Holy fuck_.

"Nikolai-we can't..." I echoed again. My voice was tremulous and pleading. He bit down on my earlobe and I drew in a sharp breath, the ghost of a sob in the sound.

He pressed soothing kisses along my jaw and then met my eyes, taking my face gently in his hands. _My god_ , his eyes glittered with some poignant and soul-shuddering emotion that I couldn't begin to identify. He trailed his thumb tenderly over my lower lip.

"Please..." he said, a plaintive note in his voice that I had never heard before. "Please...do not run from me, Y/N."

It felt as if whatever fragile resolve I had was completely shattered in that moment. I kissed his thumb tenderly. "I don't want to run, Nikolai," I whispered.

A reckless thrill surged through my veins. I watched his pupils bloom widely as I sucked his thumb into my mouth.

My god his expression was utterly awed and ferociously heated. "Y/N..." He whispered my name reverently as if it was a prayer.

I carded my fingers into his hair and gripped the nape of his scalp roughly, pulling him into another scorching kiss. He moaned into my mouth, thrusting his tongue greedily against mine.

The distant sound of deliberately heavy footfalls approached. We broke apart breathlessly. With a low growl of frustration, Nikolai pulled me gently back down to my feet.

He stole one last urgent kiss. His gaze was penetrating when he opened his eyes. "This conversation is not over, Y/N."

I yanked down my rumpled skirt and smiled. "I couldn't agree more," I whispered.

I quickly moved back to my chair. I pushed an errant strand of hair behind my ear and smoothed my skirt down distractedly as I sat down. _Christ, I hope I don't look like I have just been utterly ravished._

Nikolai moved away reluctantly, moving back to his side of the desk. His eyes roved over me and he palmed his raging hard-on through his pants, a heated glint in his eyes. _My god_.

My mouth watered treasonously and I licked my lips. His eyes dropped to my mouth and he hummed deeply. He sat down slowly in his chair, his eyes flicking back to mine. _My god_ , his expression could have melted glass.

Boulder and Stuart walked back into the room just as I was suppressing a shiver of desire. I drew a quiet breath and turned. Stuart had an unexpected smile of his face and was clutching a stack of papers to his notebook.

He grinned. "Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Itchenko. This could really help us out a lot."

Nikolai smiled slowly in response. "Not at all, Detective Fletcher." His eyes fell on me. "I was just telling Detective Y/L/N here what a _pleasure_ it is to offer my...assistance. In any way that I can."

I felt a flush blooming in my cheeks as I met his heated gaze. I cleared my throat, carefully settling my expression into a look of cool repose. "You are too kind, Mr. Itchenko. As always." I rose from my chair.

A small secret smile ghosted over his lips. "Until next time, Detective."

He made no move to stand. He and I both knew the reason why. Another warm flush threatened to flood over me.

 _My god if he and I were here alone_...I was suddenly seized by the compelling mental image of kneeling before him behind that desk, freeing that delicious hard-on from the tight restraint of his slacks, taking his throbbing cock into the wet warmth of my mouth...

_Fuck!_

I licked my lips distractedly and cleared my throat again. I met Nikolai's gaze. Those deep green pools were alight with rapt ardor, as if he could read the lascivious nature of my thoughts. "Until next time, Mr. Itchenko," I smiled.

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

A mercifully cool autumn breeze blew across me as Stuart and I stepped stepped back out onto the street.

He still had that ridiculously cheerful grin on his face. "These guys aren't half bad, you know. Very polite. That big guy even offered me a vodka, can you believe it?" He giggled incredulously.

I drew in a bracing breath, trying to clear my fevered thoughts. "That's great, Stuart. So what did you get?"

He rifled through the pile of papers in his hands. "He gave me a whole stack of copied employment records. Lt. Stevens will be very pleased."

I smiled sardonically. No doubt those records were entirely composed of the men in coveralls still unloading crates at the entrance. Samovar's "legitimate" employees.

I grinned good-naturedly at Stuart as I climbed back into the car. "No doubt. I'm sure he will be."

Stuart sat down in the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. "So what did Mr. Itchenko say?"

 _Things that would make you blush, Stuart_.

I coughed slightly. "Not much. He uh...denies any knowledge of the homicides of course. I guess the interview was another dead end."

Stuart nodded. "Oh well, it did turn up some good information though. Maybe we really are on the wrong track investigating Itchenko. He seems like a really nice guy. He was very solicitous, don't you think?"

I hummed noncommittally.

_Oh Stuart, you have no idea...._

 

 

 


	9. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within a moment, Nikolai answered the door.
> 
> My god.
> 
> He had apparently shed his jacket, tie and waistcoat tonight. He only wore his dark elegantly tailored slacks that clung to him in all right places, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his muscular tattooed forearms. The effect was artfully casual but also incredibly delicious. He smiled serenely, his green eyes glinting warmly. "Welcome, Y/N."

Part Nine

 

Stuart was still grinning happily when we pulled into the parking lot at headquarters. "I'm going to bring these documents to Lt. Stevens straight away," he beamed.

I nodded tactfully as I put the car in park. "Sounds like a good idea, Stuart. I'll be up in a few."

He smiled excitedly and climbed out of the car, clutching the papers to his chest as if they were his most prized possession.

I sighed heavily and leaned back in my seat. Every nerve was still buzzing wildly, the phantom sensation of Nikolai's kisses still warm on my lips and throat. _My god. How in the hell does that man do this to me?_

Little Miss Subconscious smirked darkly. "Taking a step back and regrouping isn't nearly as fun as running back into his arms, is it dearest?"

_Christ._

_She actually has a point. God help me._

I blew out a frustrated breath and climbed out of the car. Almost as soon as I grabbed my purse from the backseat, I heard the text message ding.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked down at the glowing screen. It was him.

*You have left me in a most uncomfortable state, angel.*

 _Fuck me_. The mental image rose hotly in my mind of Nikolai standing before me palming his hard-on through his pants as he pinned me with that sultry loaded gaze. A warm shiver tingled through my limbs.

Sent: *My sincerest apologies, Nikolai. I wish I could be there to give you relief.*

*That wish has not left my mind since you walked out of this office.*

Sent: *You left me in a very uncomfortable state too, Nikolai.* I bit my lip and smiled as I continued to type. *I can't possibly focus today with such wet panties*

*Darling, you cannot possibly imagine how badly I desire to relieve you of that distraction.*

_Oh my, what a tease. Two can play at this game._

Sent: *Perhaps I'll just take them off now and spend the rest of the day 'sans culottes'*

His reply was immediate.

*Oh angel, you are incredibly cruel.*

Sent: *Speaking of panties, I seem to have misplaced a pair in Boston. Any idea where they disappeared to?*

*They are mine now.*

 _Holy fuck_. My face flushed hotly.

Sent: *Do you always lay claim to everything you touch, Mr. Itchenko?*

Two messages dinged, one right after the other.

*Only the things most precious to me.*  
*And of course, only if you will have me.*

I smiled. Sent: *It would be my pleasure*

*I want to see you tonight. Will you have dinner with me?*

I sighed. _Fuck_. As much as I wanted to see him again, that seemed to be a spectacularly bad idea.

Sent: *I think it would be very conspicuous if you and I were seen together, Nikolai.*

*We can dine at my residence. If you would be more comfortable, angel.*

_Christ almighty. Into the flames of utter lustful destruction I go._

Sent: *I would love to*

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

Thankfully Jacque wasn't at his desk when I walked back into the office. Somehow I didn't think I could adequately conceal the transparency of my expressions at the moment. Especially not from a Jacque Leveaux inquisition.

Miss Belinda looked up and smiled as I walked in. "You have a message, young lady. A Miss Plummer called for you. I left her number on your desk."

My pulse skittered wildly. "Oh...thank you Miss Belinda."

I guess I wasn't entirely surprised she had called. I didn't have a chance to make it to my office last night before I went to the crime scene. No doubt she was anxious to hear about how things went in Boston.

 _Christ almighty._ I couldn't begin to think of what I was going to tell her.

I sat down at my desk and dialed the number scrawled on Miss Belinda's post-it note from my desk phone. She answered after a couple of rings.

"Y/N?"

"Good morning, Ms. Plummer. How are you?" I smiled. It seemed to be a safe play to address her formally. This wasn't one of the late night calls on the James Bond cellphone. For the sake of appearances, it seemed wise for the conversation to seem business-like.

"I'm very well. I know your hands have been very full the last few days. I was wondering if you were available for a meeting today. We have some information we would like to distribute to your group."

"Of course, Ms. Plummer. I'm free now. When would you like me to come by?"

"Whenever is convenient for you. I'm in my office now on Simon Boulevard."

"That sounds great, Ms. Plummer. I'll be on my way."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

I met with Lt. Stevens briefly before I headed out to the FBI field office. He had seemed surprisingly satisfied with the results of the interview and was flabbergasted that Stuart had been given the employment documents. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they were probably of very minimal value. When I told him I was on my way to meet with the FBI, he practically radiated with joy. The combination of both his and Stuart's elated enthusiasm was almost nauseating.

Thankfully I was able to make my escape quickly. I took my time driving over to Leon Simon Boulevard, trying to organize the events of Boston into a timeline that I could coherently relate to Susan. Truthfully, the entire trip was still a hopelessly tangled mess in my mind.

When I finally arrived at the building, I checked in at the reception desk and clipped my visitor ID card to my belt next to my off duty holster. The lobby of the building was huge. It was open and airy but also oppressively sterile, all white walls and flooring. Just beyond the enormous entrance windows was a row of guards and metal detectors. There were two agents in sharp tactical uniforms chatting idly nearby. One of them had a German shepherd sitting alertly at his feet.

I walked across the huge FBI emblem that was emblazoned on the tiled floor. The painted scales of justice shone brightly flanked by the FBI motto: Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity. I errantly hoped I hadn't just committed some act of high treason by stepping over it.

I made my way to the elevators and drew a steadying breath as I was ascended up to Susan's floor. I found her office with little difficulty. Her door was ajar, but I knocked on it politely as I walked inside. Susan looked up from her desk and smiled, rising to her feet. "It's so nice to see you, Y/N. Please come have a seat."

I returned her smile and shut the door behind me. "It's nice to see you too, Susan." I sat down across from her in a plush leather chair. "I'm sorry if I missed a call from you last night. I didn't have a chance to make it to my office. As soon as I got in from the airport, I had to head out to the double homicide."

She smiled, shaking her head. "That's no problem, dear. I figured you had more than enough to deal with."

I laughed lightly. "Yes, it has been a handful lately."

She smiled. "So first things first: How did things go in Boston?"

"It was..." I drew a breath. "It was...eventful."

 _Christ almighty, what an_ _understatement._

"You had a chance to meet John Morgan?"

"I did. He's a very nice man. He had quite a bit to say about Nikolai." I paused a moment, suddenly aware that this was the first time I had referred to Nikolai by his first name in front of Susan. Though if she noted that fact, she said nothing about for the moment.

She nodded. "Yes, I called John before you left. I didn't let on why he should contact you though. I told him about your new assignment with us and hoped that would get the conversation started. John probably knows more about Itchenko than any other agent in the bureau. I predicted that the topic would come up naturally. I hope he was able to provide more information."

I drew a breath. "Yes. It was very...illuminating."

She regarded me steadily. "Did Itchenko show up in Boston?"

I gaped in surprise. "Yes he did. How did you know?"

"I received a notification about the travel expense account Wednesday night. It noted that the hotel reservation had been refunded on Tuesday. When I called to inquire about it, they told me that the reservation had been changed. I knew you would have told me if you decided to cancel the trip."

I nodded. "Yes, our leak in the bureau apparently works very quickly. Nikolai obviously knew I would be at the conference long before I got there, Susan. And he knew about my appointment as FBI liaison."

She sighed. "Honestly, Y/N I anticipated that he would contact you while you were in Boston. I never imagined he would actually show up there. Believe me if I had, I would have forewarned you. Once I found out about the reservation change, I had the inkling that he was going to be there in person. I didn't want to contact you in the event that you were with him when I called."

I huffed out a dry laugh. "Yes, I imagine that would have been a bit awkward."

"So how did he contact you? What did he say?"

I took a steadying breath. _Fuck, here it comes._ "That night when I got back to the hotel after the introductory dinner, he was in my room."

I saw her eyes widen in surprise, but I pushed on before I could lose my nerve. "He made it clear that he knew about the FBI liaison appointment." I paused. "And then...then uh...things took an unexpected turn."

"Unexpected how?"

I took another steadying breath. "We...we slept together."

"Oh." She raised a brow and smiled gently. "I see."

I dropped my eyes from her gaze, clearing my throat. "To be honest Susan, I don't really know who seduced who. One moment we were talking, the next moment we were kissing, and the next..." I trailed off awkwardly, "...things got a little carried away."

The rest of it came out in an unheralded rush. It was if the dam had broken, everything spilling out in a torrential flood. I told her about blocking Nikolai's number the next morning, about Masters approaching me at the conference, and my conversation with Nikolai afterwards. She listened so patiently, her expression warm and reassuring. It was strangely cathartic to get it all off my chest, like a massive weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.

When I finally finished, I took another bracing breath. She was still regarding me keenly. I met her eyes steadily. "So what do you think, Susan?"

She was silent a moment and then reached across the desk and took my hand. "Y/N, I think...I think that he's in love with you," she said seriously.

I was stunned. I stared at her speechlessly. I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was actually hearing someone say out loud a thought that had been be fermenting in my mind...perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps I already knew, but I didn't want to believe it.

And maybe I didn't want to believe because I knew...however subconsciously, however much I tried to fight it...that I was falling in love with him too. I was obviously no expert, but I imagined it was very bad practice for a spy to actually fall in love while pretending to fall in love.

I shook my head slowly. "You can't be serious, Susan."

"Listen Y/N, I am not saying that to make you uncomfortable. I very much meant what I said a few moments ago. It didn't even cross my mind that he would actually go to Boston. That was completely unforeseen. And it's even more astonishing to hear that he dispatched one of the Vor's police assets to reach out to you afterwards. And at a federal conference no less. I know I told you before that his behavior with you has been unexpected, but this..."

She paused and took a breath. "Consider this: He is taking risks that a careful man wouldn't take, making overtures that a private man wouldn't make, and displaying a sentimentality that a dispassionate man wouldn't display. I don't think he would be going to these lengths if he wasn't completely taken with you."

My insides were writhing riotously, twisting into an uncomfortable knot. I sighed heavily. "I don't even know how to respond to that, Susan."

She squeezed my hand gently and released it. "Have you spoken to him since you've been back?"

I huffed out a mirthless laugh. "As luck would have it, Lt. Stevens sent me back to Samovar this morning with another detective from the task force. Nikolai ended up sending him off with one of his minions to get some employment records..."

She raised her brows. "You're kidding. Nikolai Itchenko gave your detective access to the business employment records?"

I shook my head. "I doubt very much that they are anything of importance. I imagine they are entirely composed of the legitimate employees of the business. It was just a ruse so that he and I could speak alone."

She hummed. "You don't understand. I would never anticipate him giving up any information, even about the most innocuous or trivial of things."

"That was the only thing he gave away. We spoke very briefly about the latest events with John Looney and the Balkov Vors, but he didn't give any kind of concession about the Pushkin crew's involvement."

She nodded thoughtfully. "What is your take on what's happening?"

"I think this factional war isn't over. I think the Balkov crew is making another power play. They made an overture to the Irish and the Pushkin crew took notice. The two dead men in the car, the visit to Looney that put him in the hospital, it was all a message. A warning."

"Yes, I would tend to agree," she sighed. She reached over to a stack of documents on her desk and pulled out a dossier. "There have been a number of Russian travelers coming into the country in the last week. The FBI has identified these six men as suspected members of the Balkov cartel. We haven't received any word yet of them coming to the city, but it's always better to be prepared. I compiled this packet for you to bring to the task force."

"Thank you Susan. I'm sure Lt. Stevens will be ecstatic about all the intel he's accumulating today." I smiled sardonically.

She laughed softly. "Well, I figured it was a good enough excuse to justify getting you over here today."

I smiled. "I am glad you did. The last few days have been so crazy, it was nice to finally be able to talk about it."

She smiled warmly in return. "So what happens now? With you and Nikolai, I mean."

"Nikolai is still very much undeterred. I guess I have been unwittingly, but apparently very effectively, playing hard to get. He obviously knows that I now have ties to the Feds, but it seems he still...uh...still feels very strongly."

"And you, how do you feel?"

"I honestly don't know."

She smiled sympathetically. "I understand. That's okay. I think this madness with the Vors is far from over. Just be careful, Y/N. I know that you're in a very strange position. And if at any point this becomes too difficult for you, you just need to let me know."

I nodded, smiling palely. "I know, Susan. I appreciate your concern. I'm doing okay."

_But for how long?_

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

Lt. Stevens wasn't in his office when I made it back to headquarters. I found Martinez at his desk over in the Homicide Division and turned over the dossier packet from Susan.

Martinez grinned as he thumbed through the paperwork. "This is good stuff, Y/N. I'll make some bulletins to pass out to the guys, in case any of these cats start popping up on our radar."

I nodded. "Anything new with the homicides?"

"Not much," Martinez shook his head. "The DMV couldn't come up with any more information on the vehicle. The bullshit registration is a dead end. I sent a couple of my guys over the the autopsies this morning. The Pushkin crew must have really done a number on those two Balkov guys. Shot, beaten, stabbed, electrocuted..."

"Electrocuted?"

He smirked. "That's the theory. They both had burns on their testicles consistent with electrical injury."

I shook my head. "Christ almighty."

Martinez shrugged. "There's always a steep price to pay for hubris. In retrospect, I guess they took it easy on Looney and his boys. At least Looney's still alive. Still in a coma, but alive."

I thought back to the healing cuts over Nikolai's knuckles that were no doubt the result of pounding Looney into a bloody pulp. A strange tingling frisson rolled down my spine.

It was hard to correlate that those same rugged hands that touched me so gently and coaxed such powerful orgasms from my body were the same hands that had pommelled Looney into a grisly broken mess. Those same marvelous fingers that had been sliding tightly within me as his agile tongue lathed over my sex, those same hands that had pressed compelling little bruises into my hips as I rode his incredible cock. _My god_.

I cleared my throat distractedly, absently running my hands over my hips. "Any idea where Lt. Stevens disappeared to?"

"Nah," Martinez leaned back in his chair tiredly. "I imagine he went to go brief the command staff about last night. I'll snag him when he comes in and let him know about your dossiers."

"Thanks Sarge, let me know if anything new comes up."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

The rest of the day passed incredibly slowly. The task force had another brief meeting in the afternoon to touch base about the Irish surveillances. The general consensus was that the Irish seemed to be laying low for the moment, essentially licking their wounds in the wake of their patriarch's ambush.

I had long since taken off my panties in the ladies room and stashed them in my purse. It had been incredibly distracting trying to concentrate on the intelligence reports I was reviewing while my still damp panties kept reminding me of my tryst with Nikolai in his office. It was strangely liberating to walk around "sans culottes", a little naughty thrill putting an extra spring in my step all afternoon.

Nikolai had texted me a couple hours before the end of the shift:

*You haven't changed your mind about dinner tonight, have you angel?*

Sent: *Of course not. What time would you like me to come?*

*I should be there by 6:00. The Champ Elysees #1001. You are more than welcome to come whenever you like.*

Sent: *Very well, 6:00 it is. I'll see you tonight, handsome.*

*I shall be counting the hours, angel.*

The early autumn dark was falling quickly when I left the office. I had made another quick trip to the ladies room before I left to freshen my makeup and perfume. I ran into Lt. Stevens at the elevator on my way down to the lobby.

"Ah, Y/L/N! Martinez just finished compiling some bulletins for next week from the FBI intel. Excellent job you guys did today," he smiled.

I returned his smile politely. "Thank you sir."

He sighed contentedly. "Hopefully now we will be better prepared if any more problems arise. Christ, I hope it's going to stay quiet for a little while. So how are you planning to spend your weekend?"

Little Miss Subconscious was grinning wickedly. "She's hoping to spend it with her legs up by her ears," she leered. I smothered her down violently, clearing my throat.

"Hopefully I'll spend it recovering from this week," I said, fighting to keep my expression neutral.

He nodded satisfactorily. "Very good. I'll see you on Monday. Enjoy your recovery."

I forced Little Miss Subconscious down before she could interject with a witty retort. "You too, Lt. See you Monday."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

The Champ Elysees was a very posh condominium complex on Bienville street. It had originally been a large French quarter warehouse decades ago and had recently been refurbished into a ridiculously luxurious hideaway for New Orleanian well-to-do's and visiting celebrities. It was a quintessential French quarter site with flickering gaslight lamps and large windows opening up to wrought iron balconies covered in creeping vines.

I pulled up to the entrance and parked in the open bottom floor garage. It seemed a bit too conspicuous to walk into the building with my badge and holster clipped to my belt, so I stowed them in the glove box.

I walked through the glass double doors into an enormous foyer with large beautiful paintings covering the elegantly painted walls. A small marble fountain babbled merrily in the middle of the room, flanked by ornate wrought iron benches. There was a small indoor cafe to the left where a handful of people were sitting at bistro tables chatting idly while a uniformed barista served them coffee.

_Wow this place is seriously swank._

I turned off to the right towards the elevators. Just past the elevator hallway I spied two large glass doors that apparently led to an outdoor garden. There were a few small groups of people sitting on the benches interspersed between the large baroque planters of flowers and hanging lanterns. I saw a man in a waiter's uniform serving cocktails from his tray.

I noticed two men sitting apart from everyone else nearest to the doors, apparently deep in conversation. One was blonde, his clean-shaven face was pock marked and craggy. The other was dark haired, bearded and had a menacingly gaunt face. Both were large men dressed in dark suits. _Christ, these fucking Russians stand out like sore thumbs._ No doubt they were two of Nikolai's minions, posted in the foyer to keep watch for any suspicious activity. Blondie and Beard apparently took no notice of me as I passed.

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

The tenth floor was at the penthouse level of the building. As I punched the elevator button, I was again awash in that same tingling nervousness I felt on my way up to Nikolai's office this morning. I stamped my heels lightly, trying to quell the pins and needles vibrating down my legs.

The doors opened to a long carpeted hallway. It appeared that there were only four condos on the entire floor. #1001 was the first one I came to. I took a deep breath. It felt like a flurry of PCP-crazed butterflies were desperately trying to escape from my stomach. I steeled my nerve and knocked.

Within a moment, Nikolai answered the door.

 _My god_.

He had apparently shed his jacket, tie and waistcoat tonight. He only wore his dark elegantly tailored slacks that clung to him in all right places, and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his muscular tattooed forearms. The effect was artfully casual but also incredibly delicious. He smiled serenely, his green eyes glinting warmly. "Welcome, Y/N."

I returned his smile, the butterflies beating madly against my sternum. "Good evening, Nikolai."

He stepped aside for me to pass. As I walked inside, he yanked me playfully into his embrace. Kicking the door closed, he pulled me tightly to his chest and kissed me deeply, curving a hand behind my neck. His kiss was so ferocious, his tongue relentlessly chasing mine. _My god how is it he always tastes so fucking good?_

I wound my hands around the back his neck, melting into his touch. I was enveloped in the heady scent of his cologne. I moaned softly into his mouth and he smiled against my lips.

His voice was a low melodious rumble. "I have been craving your taste all day, angel."

I smiled, carding my fingers into his hair as he dragged his mouth hotly down the side of my throat. "Is that so?" I teased, "Just how badly have you been craving it?"

He met my eyes, his gaze glittering with heated amusement. "Most desperately, darling," he smiled.

"Then I suppose I am very lucky to arrive in time to satisfy you," I smiled and caressed the side of his face, relishing the gentle burn of the light stubble along his jaw. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, pressing his cheek into my palm.

He opened his eyes again, those hypnotic green pools that absolutely paralyzed me. "As always, angel: I am the fortunate one to have you here with me." He took my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. "May I offer you a glass of wine?"

"Yes, please."

He led me into the enormous kitchen, all elegantly tiled counters and stainless steel appliances. It was open to a view of the lower floor below, a living room area dimly lit by tall ornate lamps. There was large plush couch covered in chic brown upholstery in front of a white stone fireplace, and large floor to ceiling windows flanked in dark chocolate drapery.

"This is a beautiful place, Nikolai."

He smiled, retrieving a bottle of white wine from an ice bucket on the counter. "I'm glad that you like it. I would very much enjoy spending quite a bit of time here with you."

I laughed lightly. "How could I refuse such an attentive host?"

He poured a glass of wine and handed it to me, skimming his fingers lightly over mine. "I will strive to never give you reason to refuse, angel. I have ordered us dinner from Galatoire's. It should be arriving shortly."

I arched a brow playfully. "You spoil me, Nikolai."

"As much as you deserve," he smiled.

As he poured his own glass of wine, I walked out of the kitchen and down the mezzanine steps to the living room. _Wow, this place does have a beautiful view._ I stepped up a long dark wood desk in front of those enormous draped windows, looking out beyond the balcony to the beautiful nighttime lights and old world architecture of the surrounding buildings.

 _My god_. It felt so surreal being here with him. Especially considering what an utter frazzled fucking mess I had been two days ago in Boston. If you had told me then that I would be here with Nikolai tonight, I would never have believed it. Here in his beautiful condo. Staying in and eating takeout dinner, for christssakes. I smiled to myself. It was so ridiculously domestic I almost wanted to laugh out loud.

I felt his solid warmth behind me, but before I could turn he was snaking his hands around my waist and pulling my back flush to his chest. He trailed soft warm kisses down the side of my neck. I set my glass down on the desk and leaned back into his body, tipping my head back onto his shoulder and winding my hand up into his hair.

He splayed a possessive hand over my stomach that made my abdomen shiver in anticipation. "Are you still sans culottes, angel?" His voice was a low heated rumble against my neck.

"Wouldn't it spoil the surprise if I told you?" I whispered, rocking my hips back teasingly into his.

He groaned lowly at the contact and chuckled warmly against my ear. "Not at all. Though I would of course take great pleasure in confirming your answer." He kissed the curve of my ear and bit down gently on my earlobe. "And I must admit, the thought of it has been driving me to distraction all day."

 _Christ almighty_. The effect of his mouth at my ear spilling such heated words as his warm solid body pressed into mine was so utterly fucking arousing.

I dropped my hands down and reached behind me, gripping his hips. "Mmmm...Nikolai. Shall I recount to you the distraction I suffered all day? First with my soaked panties, and then afterwards the distracting chill of being without them and wishing you were there to warm me."

He growled. "Oh angel, you are indeed incredibly cruel." His hands drifted down to my thighs and he began inching my skirt up my legs, bunching the material into his fists tantalizingly slowly.

I smiled. "Aren't you expecting a delivery any moment, Nikolai?"

"Let them wait," he breathed hotly in my ear. His hand drifted down between my legs. His fingers brushed lightly over my naked sex, a barely there touch that had me shuddering in his embrace.

"I would like to sample my dessert, darling," he murmured into my neck.

He pressed his fingertips into my damp folds and dragged them slickly over my clit. I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily into his palm. "Oh god, Nikolai..." My voice was a low needy whine.

He raised his arm and sucked his glistening fingers into his mouth with a relished sigh. "So sweet, angel..." he whispered. The hot hard line of his erection pressed into my ass, straining against his slacks.

I moaned plaintively, gripping his hips tightly behind me. "God, Nikolai...I want you so, so badly." He groaned deeply at my words, grinding his hips into mine.

"I'm afraid we are going to alarm your chaperones if they come upstairs," I gasped breathlessly.

He chuckled warmly. "My chaperones?"

"The two big Russians downstairs."

His hands stilled. "What did they look like?" he asked, his once heated voice suddenly toneless.

The realization washed over me coldly.

_Fuck. They are not Nikolai's men._

I turned and met his eyes, his expression was hard and gravely dark.

"One is blonde, the other has a beard," I whispered.

He looked away. A silent snarl passed over his lips. He drew a breath, his gaze returning to mine. "It would probably be best for you to go, angel. But I hazard to say that it is already too late for that."

The pieces of the puzzle began to fall diabolically into place.

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck!!!_

_This is going to be a hit on Nikolai. A motherfucking assassination attempt. And I left my fucking sidearm in the fucking glovebox! Goddammit!_

He reached behind me, yanking open a drawer of the desk. He withdrew two black 40 caliber pistols, shoving one down into the back of his waistband. He placed the other in my hands.

"Only use this if you absolutely must, angel. Go into the bedroom and lock the door."

I stared at him. "I'm a fucking police officer, Nikolai. Let me help you."

He shook his head, moving away from me and roughly pulling the drapes closed over the windows. "Firearms make entirely too much noise, angel. Most especially in an occupied building. Silence is a necessity. They will not care that anyone else is here. They cannot afford any witnesses."

I watched him, still too stunned to reply to him. He withdrew his phone from the pocket of his slacks, punching in a number. His hard expression was cold and stonily calculating. After a moment, it appeared that someone answered his call. "Oni zdes'. Devoye muzhchin," he barked into the phone and abruptly ended the call.

"Nikolai, please let me help you," I pleaded, catching his arm. His eyes fell on me, the cold expression softening only slightly. "Darling, they will kill us both if given the opportunity. You must allow me to handle this."

I opened my mouth to object, and he kissed me gently, his hand caressing over the side of my face. "I will not allow anything to happen to you, angel."

"Nikolai please, what if something..." I floundered. "What if something goes wrong? How can I possibly help you if I am locked in the bedroom?"

He shook his head slowly. "You will not want to see this." His tone was so emotionless and flat, it sent shivers down my spine.

"But, Nikolai..."

A small affectionate smile passed palely over his lips. "Please, Y/N. The bedroom," he said in a low voice that brokered no further debate.

I drew in a shallow defeated breath. He moved away and began turning off all the lamps, save one that glowed dimly in the far corner of the room. The room was bathed in a heavy insidious twilight. I moved to the dark bedroom to the left. I lingered in the doorway and partly closed the door, leaving it only marginally ajar.

From my vantage point, I watched Nikolai move to the kitchen hallway. I saw a small dark flicker of a smile pass over his lips as he switched off the light.

I cannot begin to describe the stifling weight of sinister foreboding that lay in the room. The silence was so profound it seemed louder than any deafening cacophony. The seconds stretched endlessly into an infinite maddening cage of apprehension.

And then I heard it.

There was a faint metallic clicking from the doorway. It didn't sound like a key in the lock. It was furtive, a strangely complex litany of small scrapes of metal interspersed with small quiet taps.

_Holy fuck, they are picking the lock._

I saw Nikolai's dark figure tensing just inside the kitchen doorway.

I heard the quiet turn of the doorknob. There was a brief wash of light from the exterior hallway that was quickly drowned into darkness as the door was closed. There were two large shadows in the hallway.

The men moved into the room silently. I barely registered the soft tap of their footfalls. I quietly shifted further across the bedroom doorway, making a quick furtive glance towards the hall.

 _Fuck_. Blondie and Beard were both armed, pistols raised as they cautiously scanned the room. Judging by the odd length of their pistol barrels, it seemed there were silencers on their guns.

They moved right past the last place I had seen Nikolai in the kitchen doorway and walked further into the room, Beard slightly ahead of Blondie.

It all happened within a matter of seconds.

In a movement so fast my eyes could scarcely see it, Nikolai appeared at Blondie's side and snatched his pistol arm. Blondie lurched in surprise, flailing clumsily as Nikolai wrenched his captured arm into his chest. In the span of an eyeblink, he was shoving the muzzle of the gun under Blondie's jaw. There was a muted pop as blood and brain matter sprayed the ceiling and Blondie crumpled gracelessly to the floor.

Beard had spun around to the source of the noise. He raised his arm apparently much too slowly. Nikolai had grabbed him by the forearm and wrist, viciously twisting his arm and I heard a sickening crack like a gunshot. Beard cried out, his arm falling limply to his side clearly broken. The gun fell from his grasp, skittering across the floor.

Nikolai spun him around roughly, wrapping his arm around his throat from behind him. Beard choked spasmodically, clawing at Nikolai's forearm. Nikolai dragged him further into the room, Beard's feet scrambling madly on the hardwood floor. Beard plunged one of his hands and into his waistband, withdrawing a dark serrated blade. Nikolai deftly secured the choke, bracing one arm against his own shoulder, and seized Beard's bladed wrist with his free hand. He wrenched it back with another sickening snap. Beard's scream of agony was a muted high pitched wheeze. Nikolai plucked the knife effortlessly from Beard's dangling grasp.

 _Oh god_.

Beard was struggling madly, desperately trying to wrench himself free from Nikolai's immovable grasp. Flipping the blade in his hand, Nikolai sunk it viciously underneath Beard's jaw with a grunt. There was a thick wet sound of punctured flesh. Beard's feet scrambled worse than ever. Nikolai twisted the blade savagely and dragged it deeper into Beard's neck, yanking it roughly through his flesh. Blood sprayed like a fountain, splattering loudly on the floor. Beard gurgled wetly, mouthing at air like a fish out of water. His body was shuddering convulsively and then went suddenly lax. Nikolai dropped him to the floor where he landed in an awkward heap.

A wave of nausea rose hotly in my stomach. My vision swam, dimming around the edges as I dragged a shuddering breath into my lungs. I stepped out into the room, grasping the doorway for support as the room seemed to tilt precariously under my feet.

Nikolai turned to me. Rivulets of blood ran thickly down his forearms. I saw the briefest triumphant smile flicker over his mouth. He met my eyes.

_My god. I must be losing my mind._

The wash of revulsion or fear or whatever the fuck it was that was coursing over me was suddenly extinguished and replaced with something I couldn't quite identify. A warm shudder of desire flared hotly in my veins as I looked at him. It was completely insane. But as I looked at him, his eyes shining brightly, breathing heavily and spattered in blood, I was flooded with an unbidden animalistic lust.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I was crossing the room to him, grabbing him by the back of his head and kissing him deeply. His arms snaked around my waist. I felt his forearms sticking wetly to my shirt. The scent of his cologne flooded me, mixed with the acrid coppery stench of blood. He groaned roughly and pulled me tightly to his chest, our mouths sliding together desperate and unrelenting.

_My god I wanted him so fucking badly._

I heard the door bang open loudly. In the millisecond that it took for me to turn my head, Nikolai had snatched the pistol from his waistband and pointed it at the door.

The figures of Boulder, Scarface, and two other men darkened the doorway. Nikolai lowered his arm, shoving the pistol back into his waistband, his other arm still clutching me to his chest. I fleetingly wondered how bizarre a scene this must appear to his men. The boss covered in blood and wrapped around a disheveled breathless lady cop.

Scarface began speaking, a low rapid stream of Russian that I couldn't begin to follow. Nikolai nodded soberly. His hard eyes fell on me again and softened. "Come, angel." He took my hand, leading me in the direction of the bedroom.

When we reached the bedroom door, I turned back and looked at the men in the hallway. They were not empty-handed. Boulder was setting a large duffel bag on the floor and pulling out a large roll of thick plastic sheeting with the assistance another bald beady-eyed man. Scarface was pulling out rolls of duct tape from his own bag, and _oh god_ a fucking saw. A dark-haired man with a hooked nose was setting a delivery bag from Galatoire's on the counter. I errantly sympathized with the no doubt scared-witless delivery driver they had obviously intercepted outside.

Nikolai flipped on the light in the bedroom and closed the door behind us.

"Give me a moment, darling," he said softly and walked to the master bathroom. He stood in front of the sink and turned on the faucet. I watched transfixed as he unbuttoned his bloody dress shirt and shrugged out of it, revealing that enormous labyrinthine tattoo on his back. I saw the familiar words inscribed over the lithe planes of muscle: TEMHOTA. TEPPOP. CMEPTb.

_Darkness. Terror. Death._

He grabbed the bar of soap from the basin and began to wash his arms, face and neck. The sink filled with swirling crimson water, small pink droplets of soapy foam dropping into the counter.

I tore my gaze away and began glancing around the bedroom. My eyes were drifting over the interior, but not quite registering my surroundings. The elegant royal blue wallpaper, the antique gold-trimmed settee, the large plush bed draped in a fluffy white down comforter.

A strangely hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up from my throat. To think, I had imagined Nikolai and I would be spending the evening tangled in that pristine comforter. And now here we were, cleaning up after some kind of bloody fucking mafia skirmish.

I felt Nikolai's warm hand twine into mine and turned. I met his eyes, momentarily startled by the concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright, angel?"

I nodded. "I'm okay, just a little...shell-shocked I suppose," I replied quietly.

He reached up, caressing the side of my face soothingly. "Let me get you a clean shirt, darling." He moved back through the bathroom to the closet.

I began to unbutton my dress shirt, noticing for the first time that my hands were trembling. I could feel the tacky cling of the bloodstains around my waist and back.

Nikolai returned from the closet with one of his black dress shirts draped over his arm. He laid it down on the bed and took my hands, pressing them to his lips gently before bringing them down to my sides. He began unbuttoning my shirt where I had left off.

As he pulled it slowly off of my shoulders he hummed deeply, his eyes roving over my exposed chest. He trailed his fingers lightly over the lace cups of my bra. "Oh angel, if only we found ourselves in different circumstances right now," he whispered.

I huffed out a pale laugh. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

He smiled softly, wadding my shirt up in his hands and tossing it onto the floor atop of his own bloody shirt. He pulled me into the warmth of his bare tattooed chest, nuzzling his face into my hair. I trailed my fingertips lightly over the intricately drawn epaulets on his shoulders, tracing along the hollow skull pictured at the center. It was an oddly comforting moment.

"So what happens now, Nikolai?" I whispered.

"There are...matters that must be handled now, angel."

I thought back to the saw...the plastic sheeting. _Christ almighty_.

I swallowed. "I should probably go."

He released me from his embrace, a wan penitent smile on his face. "I am very sorry, darling. It appears that our evening took a most...unwelcome turn. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you."

_Sorry about the untimely grisly murders, sweetheart. Rain check?_

I smiled gently, belying the tension coiling in my stomach. "Of course, Nikolai."

He took my hand, once again bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. His green eyes smoldered darkly. "You should get dressed, angel. I am finding it very difficult to restrain myself," he smiled. "Regardless of circumstances."

I smiled wordlessly, picking up his shirt from the bed and shrugging into it. It was soft and unstarched. The scent of his cologne lingered at the collar, heady and assuaging. It was obviously much too large for me, but I buttoned it quickly and tucked it down into the waist of my skirt as smoothly as possible and folded the sleeves up to my elbows.

When I finished, Nikolai pulled me into his arms again. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and gently palmed the side of my face. My god, the expression on his face. His gaze was so profoundly sincere, something akin to adoration in his eyes. He kissed me slowly, deeply, an unspoken promise in the gentle drag of his lips. It was so genuinely sweet and earnest, a drop of normalcy in the vast ocean of this insanity.

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Come," Nikolai barked.

Scarface opened the door discreetly. "We are ready, sir," he said simply. Nikolai nodded curtly.

Scarface retreated from the door and returned moments later with Boulder. They were carrying a large plastic wrapped bundle. It was impossible to tell if it was Blondie or Beard through the opaque red-tinged sheeting. They moved to the master bathroom, presumably headed to the bathtub or shower. Beady Eyes and Hook Nose followed closely behind hefting their own macabrely gift-wrapped package.

Nikolai gave me one last squeeze and released me reluctantly. "Please send me a text when you arrive home safely, angel."

"I will," I nodded.

He smiled, kissing me gently on the forehead before moving to follow his men to the bathroom.

I walked back into the now brightly illuminated living room and looked towards the front hallway. _Holy fuck._  Now bathed in stark unforgiving light, it looked a like a scene from a horror movie. Blood was spattered on the walls and pooled in an enormous wash on the hardwood floor. I stepped cautiously around it as I made my way to the door, looking up to the spray of blood and small flecks of whitish-pink brain matter on the ceiling.

The room seemed to lurch dizzyingly. I took a deep steadying breath, the heavy coppery stench filling my nose. It was hard to describe the surreal sensation I was feeling. Being a police officer, I had seen countless bloody scenes of human violence, but I suppose this was different. This was the first time I had watched as it was happening.

I walked out of the condo into the exterior hallway, sucking in a breath of fresh air. It was empty and quiet, like an oasis of commonality, unremarkable and peaceful. I closed the door behind me and walked dazedly to the elevators.

_Holy fuck. What in the actual fuck had just happened?_

 

 


	10. Part Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My smutty muse ran away with me today. I have no idea what happened. You have been warned...
> 
>  
> 
> "Nikolai, what are you-"
> 
> He cut off the rest in a warm fierce kiss, pulling me tightly to his cold damp chest.
> 
> "I couldn't be without you tonight, angel," his whispered darkly against my lips.

Part Ten

 

Little sprinkles of rain were spattering erratically over my windshield as I drove out of the garage. The cold bracing night air that washed over me when I had walked outside had done nothing to numb my frazzled nerves. I found myself driving on auto-pilot as I weaved through the convoluted streets of the French Quarter and made my way onto the interstate.

_Holy fuck. What the fuck just happened?_

A chill shiver trickled down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. I cranked up the heat dial on the dash.

My brain was a complete mess of swirling staccato thoughts. _Nikolai. My god_. I couldn't begin to correlate how such a refined, gentlemanly, utterly sexy man could also be such a vicious, brutally efficient killer. But truthfully that wasn't the troubling part. What troubled me most was that in a small secret compartment in my brain...

It really...really turned me on.

I don't know what the fuck it was. It seemed like some primitive dark recess of my mind had been electrified as I watched Nikolai dispatch those men with such remorseless efficiency. I considered myself a pretty civilized person, but my god. Something about seeing him standing there, covered in the blood of his enemies like some kind of fucking Spartan warrior, aroused such dark lustful feelings in me that I couldn't begin to analyze. The only thing that would have made the image complete would have been if he was clad in a fucking loincloth.

My core gave a hot traitorous ache at the mental image.

_Christ almighty, Y/N. Get a fucking hold of yourself._

I huffed out a frustrated breath.

_Well, gee. I guess one of the pitfalls of dating a gangster is the occasional random bloody melee, huh? So much for a quiet domestic evening..._

Because Nikolai was anything but domestic, wasn't he? Like having an apex predator for a pet instead of a golden retriever. A great white shark on a fragile gilded leash.

But as much as I hated to admit it, it was an incredibly compelling concept to be with a man who was so very dangerous and also so very protective. And maybe it was true that the line between sex and violence was often so tenuous that the boundaries became blurred. And Nikolai was the absolute fucking epitome of sex and violence.

It was pouring down rain by the time I pulled into my driveway. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance. I sprinted from my car to the door as heavy cold drops of rain pelted over me.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside, shutting it quickly behind me. I walked to the bedroom still half dazed and dropped my purse onto the bed. Artemis peeked out from underneath my dresser.

I smiled palely. "Not a fan of the thunder, huh? Yeah, I don't blame you," I sighed.

I laughed dryly in spite of myself. The nighttime thunderstorm was actually quite apropos, like the setting of a horror movie. And this had most definitely been a night of thrills and chills. I sighed again. _Christ, I need a hot bath._

I peeled off my chilly damp clothes, dropping them into a pile at my feet. I picked up Nikolai's shirt and buried my face into the collar, breathing in the faint lingering scent of his cologne.

 _For fucks sake, I am such a fucking mess_.

I started my bath and poured in a generous dollop of soothing lavender bubble bath. As the tub began to fill I walked back out to the bedroom and pulled my phone out of my purse.

I typed out a message to Nikolai.

Sent: *I made it home.*

His reply was immediate.

*Stay there.*

A cold frisson tingled up my spine. _Shit. What did that mean? Had the danger not passed yet? Were more horrors in store tonight?_

A loud clap of thunder shook the walls and I startled.

_Christ almighty, girl. Get it together._

I couldn't help the well of panic that rose in my stomach. _Fuck, I hope he's okay_. It was laughable I suppose that I was worrying about him. He was obviously more than capable of taking care of himself. And yet, I couldn't stifle that small irrational fear that he was in danger.

I turned off the tub faucet and sank down into the hot foam with a defeated sigh.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the rim of the tub, stretching my limbs. _Thank you god for big garden tubs_. I was trying to clear my mind, but each clap of lightning and angry rumble of thunder jarred me.

After about twenty minutes, I was still lying back in the tub sorting through my wayward thoughts when the lights suddenly went out. _Goddammit! Somebody cue the fucking Michael Myers music_. I carefully stepped out of the tub and felt around for my towel.

My fingers met with the soft plush fabric and I picked it up, wrapping it around me protectively and tucking the end securely into my cleavage. I felt my way around the walls until I made it out to the kitchen. I opened up the bottom cabinet nearest to the doorway and started pulling out my emergency candles.

I had learned a long time ago that one of the drawbacks of living out in the country was that once the power went out, it took forever to be restored. I had invested in a ridiculously large stock of those tall colorful Catholic saint candles for just such an emergency.

After a few minutes of fumbling around in drawers I finally found a lighter. I dispersed an army of lit candles in the bedroom, the kitchen and living room.

I made my way back to the bedroom. The wind howled and wailed outside, and the windows shook at each clap of thunder. The flickering light of the candles cast odd twisting shadows over the walls.

_Christ almighty, how in the fuck am I going to sleep tonight?_

And then I heard it.

I think I was almost expecting it when I heard the knock at the door.

There was only one person it could be.

I looked down the dark hallway to the front door, walking towards it like I was hypnotized. I unlocked the door with shaking fingers.

"Nikolai..."

"Hello, angel."

_My god he does look delicious soaking wet._

His eyes glittered warmly as he regarded me, droplets clinging to his lashes. His jacket, polo shirt and slacks were plastered compelling to his body. His hair was slick and wet. I took his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door against the dark driving rain. He smiled, his eyes roving over me rapturously, and I suddenly felt distinctly vulnerable in my thin little towel.

"Nikolai, what are you-"

He cut off the rest in a warm fierce kiss, pulling me tightly to his cold damp chest.

"I couldn't be without you tonight, angel," his whispered darkly against my lips.

There were a million questions I wanted to ask him: how do you know where I live, how did you get here, what has been happening- but it was all drowned in the buzzing in my ears as he kissed me again, his tongue thrusting hotly against mine.

A sudden irresistible warmth flooded my core. _My god I wanted him so fucking badly._ I shoved the jacket off his shoulders, yanking it down off of his arms. He groaned, sliding his cool hands under my towel and gripping my ass possessively. I unbuttoned the collar of his polo shirt with trembling fingers. He released his tenacious grip on my ass, breaking the kiss and ripping his shirt off over his head. He was on me again in a heartbeat, his kiss savagely hard and deep as he pulled out my ponytail holder and twined his hands up into my hair. I unbuckled his belt roughly, dragging down his zipper and yanking his pants down his hips.

He stepped out of his pants with an awkward stumble, never breaking the hot seal of his kiss. I pulled him down the hallway towards the bedroom and we bounced off of the walls in our frenetic path, grabbing roughly at each other through frenzied kisses. We banged roughly into the bedroom doorframe and he lifted me effortlessly into his arms.

He carried me to the bed and laid me back on the comforter, trailing hot kisses down my throat and over the swell of my cleavage. He yanked my towel open with a growl and mouthed hotly over my breasts as I arched into him. I moaned brokenly as he tongued my taut nipples into his mouth, suckling hard. "Nikolai...god please...I want you," I keened softly.

He crawled up my body onto the bed, his erection pressing hotly against my naked sex through the the thin barrier of his briefs. With a sudden reckless thrill, I shoved at his shoulders and rolled him over onto his back.

He made a low noise in his throat, a compelling little sound that was something between a moan and a laugh. "What are you doing, angel?"

I smiled naughtily. "What I wanted to do in your office today," I whispered.

I lavished warm wet kisses over the cool skin of his torso, dragging my mouth wantonly over the crowned skull, the snarling demon, the winding snake. He watched me raptly, his chest rising and falling deeply. I curled my fingers into the waistband of his briefs, casting my eyes up to meet his gaze.

_My god._

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face. His deep green eyes were glinting black, swollen lips parted with ragged breath, a warm flush spreading over his cheekbones.

I pulled his briefs slowly down his hips, his thick delicious cock springing free. My mouth watered at the sight. _Holy fuck._ His cock looked absolutely huge close up, thick and throbbing before my eyes. I looked up to his eyes again, a slow wicked smile curving on my lips. His pupils were so wide and dark, looking down at me all molten heat and violent want.

I tentatively curled my hand around the thick base of his cock, stroking him with light teasing touches. He tensed, biting out a hissed curse, his hips jerking upwards. I smiled, licking my lips slowly and grasping him firmly in my hand. I swept my thumb lightly over the slit, smearing a slick little drop of precum all over the head.

Leaning down, I grazed my tongue along the underside of his cock, base to tip and he groaned deeply. I swirled my tongue over the thick head and took him into the wet warmth of my mouth. The delicious salty tang of his precum tingled over my tongue. I suckled teasingly on the firm pliant head and was rewarded with his sharp ragged inhale of breath.

He reached down, tenderly palming the side of my face and cupping my jaw, the tendons in his arm standing out like serpents. His beautiful green eyes were every conceivable shade of sin. "Oh god...angel..." he rasped.

I held his gaze, planting light little kisses over the head of his cock, before taking him deeply into my mouth again. Flattening my tongue along the ridged underside of his cock, I began sucking him down as deeply as I could. _My god_ , he was so thick I could barely fit my mouth around him. He tasted so fucking good, rock hard beneath warm silky smooth skin.

When I looked up again, he was staring down at me, absolutely transfixed, delicious groans spilling from his plush parted lips. His hips were jerking in shallow little thrusts, thighs trembling slightly in barely tenable restraint. I sank my lips down around him further still, my throat fluttering as I swallowed around the head of his cock. A strangled ululating moan ripped from his chest, his stomach muscles clenching tight.

 _Fuck it felt so fucking good to be doing this to him_. It was incredibly heady and exciting to have him under my power, tense and trembling, his every sharp inhale and moan igniting something primal and deeply exhilarating inside me.

I swallowed him down again, curling my tongue around every throbbing vein. I gripped him firmly in my hand, stroking up his length after each pass of my lips.

"Fuck-angel..." he gasped brokenly, "No-no-I want.."

I released the thick head of his cock from my mouth with a wet pop and smiled wickedly. "What is it you want, baby?" I purred teasingly.

His eyes were dark and oh so fucking dangerous. "I want to fuck you within an inch of your sanity, angel," he growled.

 _Holy fuck_.

A surge of lust roared through my veins. In the span of a heartbeat, he had grabbed my arms and pulled me up roughly into his lap. The hard length of his cock slid across my damp folds and I moaned shakily.

He arched up, sinking his teeth into my shoulder and sucking a possessive bruise there. I cried out, curling my fingers into the hard immovable muscles of his back. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me up so that the throbbing head of his cock pressed insistently at my entrance. And then he was lowering me slowly, his thick cock splitting my slick folds, stretching me around him. I shuddered and moaned plaintively, my eyes fluttering closed. "Oh god-oh god, Nikolai-so...so thick-ughnn-fuck!"

He growled low in his throat. "Mmmmm...so fucking tight, Y/N..."

He sank into me impossibly deeper and then _oh fuck_ he was hitting bottom. My body tensed like a bow string pulled unyieldingly taut. My eyes fluttered open. He was watching me, utterly enraptured, his head tilted back. He kissed me so softly. "My beautiful angel," he whispered into my parted lips.

I keened shakily, rolling my hips in tight little circles. _Fuck he felt so fucking thick inside me._ Each roll of my hips was stretching me around him. A low tortured groan welled up from his throat. He began to thrust up into my rocking hips, his fingertips pressing roughly into my ass. And _oh holy fuck_ , my orgasm coiled tightly in my core, spiking so quickly and unexpectedly. I shuddered violently as he pulled me down onto his cock, over and over and over.

"Oh god...Nikolai...please..." I panted breathlessly.

"Yes that's it, darling," he growled. "Let me feel it."

I shuddered tremulously again, a needy whine rising at the back of my throat. He thrust up into me harder, gripping my hips in his iron grasp. My orgasm slammed into me viciously hard, blurring my vision and stealing my breath. "Oh fuck- _Nikolai-god!_ " I cried out, my hips trembling in helpless little jerks.

He groaned through gritted teeth as my inner muscles clenched tightly around him. He crashed his lips onto mine, kissing me so deeply and desperately. I broke my lips from his with a breathless pant and he bit down roughly on my throat. He dragged his mouth up my neck, his voice low and hot in my ear. "You are mine, angel. So good for me. So fucking perfect," he whispered.

A needy sob tore from my throat and I ground my hips down on the thick heavy length of his cock. "Yes, Nikolai. I'm all yours," I whispered, my rasping voice thick with lust.

He growled roughly and rolled me onto my back, sliding his cock in tightly to the hilt. I cried out and arched my back, my body twisting in a wordless plea for more. He began to pound into me mercilessly hard, the brutal snap of his hips dragging pleading cries from my lips. I twined my shivering legs around his waist, my orgasm flaring hotly again in my core.

I dug my fingernails into his back and he bit out a low unintelligible curse, capturing my lips in another breathless desperate kiss. And _my god_ , the relentless pounding of his thick cock inside me and the taste of his sweet brutally fierce kiss dragged me roughly over the edge again. I arched into him with a high sharp cry, shuddering with the ferocious impact of my orgasm. My pussy clenched around him so hard it seemed he couldn't help the exquisitely tortured groan that ripped from his chest.

"Please Nikolai," I gasped, "please...I want to watch you fall apart for me..."

I met his eyes. And _my god_ his expression was so fucking beautiful, an agonized look of pure torturous bliss passing darkly over his features.

He kissed me again, hot and wet and desperately wild. His hips were thrusting frantically, pistoning into mine with utter abandon. _My god_ he felt so fucking good, I was desperately grasping onto my faculties of consciousness.

The violent thrust of his hips became more and more urgent. "Bohze moi-oh god-angel- _oooohh fuck!_ " His entire body tensed and he came so fucking hard, his hands gripping my hips painfully tight. His hips shuddered in jagged stilted movements as the hot flood of his cum filled me. He collapsed heavily on my chest, wrapping his arms around me and stealing my breath with a deep growling kiss. His cock continued to pulse inside me and I could feel his thick cum leaking out of me, slick and warm and oh so fucking satisfying.

We we both utterly wrecked and breathless. I trailed my fingertips lightly over his back and he hummed deeply, nuzzling his face into my neck. My mind was such a dazed fuzzy mess. "God, Nikolai..." I breathed.

He lifted his head and propped himself up on his forearms. His eyes glittered so warmly as he gazed down at me.

"Did I hurt you, angel?"

I smiled, shaking my head.

He caressed my cheek gently, his expression so soft and poignant. He was looking at me so sweetly, like I was something precious, something to be cherished and worshipped. He kissed me gently, whispering into my mouth. "Lubov moya...moya dorogaja lubov... _vy ne znaete kak sil'no ja ljublju tebja_."

I smiled against his lips. "What are you saying?"

He opened his eyes and smiled, shaking his head wordlessly, and kissed me deeply again. I moaned softly into his mouth.

He withdrew from me slowly and I winced at the ache. _My god_ I was absolutely dripping with his cum. I couldn't help the blush that bloomed over my cheeks. He rolled onto his back and pulled me tightly into his arms. I settled my head into that warm nook of his shoulder. I brushed my fingertips over the roaring panther under my chin and he hugged me tightly to his chest, kissing me softly on the forehead. His heartbeat drummed powerfully against my ear, muting out the rumbling thunder.

I was so comfortable tangled in his warm embrace, the storm grumbling lowly outside the windows. I began to doze as he trailed his fingers lightly over my arm.

"Do you want me to stay, angel?" he whispered against my hair.

I nodded drowsily. "Yes, please stay with me, Nikolai."

He hugged me tightly to his chest. I could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed me tenderly on the forehead again.

"I will, my love. I will."

  
@@@@@@@@@


	11. Part Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delayed update. The combination of a crazy schedule and the fear that I was losing my writing mojo put things on the back burner for a long while. I hope you enjoy the update and that it's up to par. Happy holidays!
> 
>  
> 
> Death, violence, intrigue, sex, love...how the fuck had all of those things suddenly become so familiar to me?

Part Eleven

 

My eyes fluttered open as a particularly loud growl of thunder vibrated the bedroom window. I was lying on my stomach with my legs tangled in the sheet. The candles were gutteringly lowly in the encompassing darkness. I looked over to the blank face of the bedside digital clock. The power was apparently still out. I sat up groggily, pulling the down comforter up to my bare chest. Nikolai was nowhere to be seen.

_Shit. Is he gone?_

And then I heard him. A low din of conversation from out in the area of the living room. He was apparently talking to someone on his phone. I couldn't make out much from the quiet stream of Russian, but it did catch a name interspersed in the muted words: Pushkin.

I laid back down and settled into the comforter, bundling up against the chill of the room. My still sleep addled mind was placated knowing that he was still here and hadn't slipped out into the night like an ephemeral dream. The steady pattering of rain on the window and the low rumble of his voice from the next room was soothing. I began to drift back to sleep.

Some minutes later I was roused by the dip in the bed as he carefully slid into the covers beside me, his warm body pressing into my back. I felt him drape his arm lightly over mine as he settled himself in against me. He squeezed me gently and kissed me lightly on my shoulder, nuzzling his face against my neck. I stirred and rolled over, turning into his chest.

"S'everything alright?" I murmured drowsily against his skin.

His kissed me softly on my forehead. "Everything is fine, angel," he whispered. "Rest now, darling."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

Watery pale daylight was glowing weakly from beneath the bedroom curtains when I awoke. I was once again wrapped in Nikolai's warm embrace, my head on his shoulder. I blinked blearily. _My god_ I was so snug and comfortable I didn't want to move.

I peeked up through my lashes at his face, so peacefully serene in sleep. I smiled to myself as I listened to him snoring softly.

_Christ almighty, this is so surreal. Waking up next to Nikolai Itchenko. In my bed_. I almost had to restrain a laugh of disbelief.

I seized the opportunity to surreptitiously study his face. The chiseled line of his jaw, the delicate crinkles around his eyes relaxed and smooth, the artfully scruffy stubble on his cheeks, the plush curve of his lips. I noticed that his now dry hair, typically so carefully coiffed, now had compelling little curls at the tips.

_My god, this man is so painfully beautiful._

I didn't want to move. His body radiated with heat in the chill room. I felt like I could just snuggle up into his chest and sleep forever. Unfortunately I had to pee like there was no freaking tomorrow.

I slowly and painstakingly carefully extricated myself from his embrace and slipped out of bed. He stirred only slightly and shifted before lapsing into another soft contented snore. I resisted another ridiculous urge to giggle.

_Holy fuck. It really is cold in here_.

It seemed that another acute cold front had pushed through with the storm last night. I cast a glance over to the bedside clock that was blinking 12:00. I knew it couldn't be that late in the day, but obviously the power had come on during the night and reset it. The lights were not on though. I guessed Nikolai had been awake when the power was restored and had turned them off. I wondered idly how many calls he had made during the night. After all the madness and mayhem of the evening, I'm sure there was much to discuss.

I padded quietly across the carpet and snagged my fluffy grey robe from its hanger in the bathroom. I didn't want to wake Nikolai with any noise, so I walked through the kitchen and across the living room to the guest bathroom on the other side of the house.

_Whew_. There are few things in life more satisfying than being able to pee with an exceptionally full bladder.

I rifled through the vanity drawers and found the toothbrush and toothpaste that Mel had left the last time she stayed over. I brushed my teeth and studied my reflection in the mirror over the sink. My hair was a hopelessly disheveled mess. I gazed at my glowing complexion and swollen lips with a blush.

Little Miss Subconscious stretched languidly and smiled. "My, my, darling. That man certainly knows how to do wonderful things for your circulation. He's better than a spa facial."

I smirked in spite of myself and my eyes fell onto a small purple mark peeking out from the neck of my robe collar.

_Oh shit._

I pulled down the collar on the right side on my neck. There was a small purple bite mark on my throat, and further down a dark hickey on the slope of my shoulder. I coughed out a small giggle.

_Christ almighty, girl. You are a giggling idiot today._

Oddly enough...I actually liked it. It was strange. Ordinarily I was the kind of girl who thought hickeys were for over-enthusiastic teenagers, but somehow it was a very satisfying concept for him to be the one marking me, as if he was claiming me, possessing me utterly. I slipped my leg out through the slit of the robe. And sure enough, there was a flurry of small pale bruises over my hip from the press of his fingertips.

I walked back out to the kitchen. The large battery powered clock over the fridge revealed that it was shortly after 7:00 am. I turned on the heat at the thermostat with a shiver and made myself a cup of jasmine tea with my keurig.

Artemis curled around my legs, purring contentedly as I quietly stirred in some cream and sugar. I smiled. She and I were definitely on the same page this morning. If I had the ability to purr, I'm sure I'd be humming like a jet engine.

I walked over to the door to the back porch and opened it. As Artemis darted outside, a cold gust of air whispered across my bare legs. I looked out towards the misty woods, the shadowy trees blanketed in an eerily opaque white fog.

_My god, I can't get over the surreal dreamlike quality of this morning_. The quiet peacefulness was so dichotomous to the madness of last night. Between the sheer brutal violence I had witnessed in Nikolai's condo and later the utterly wonderful ferocity of his love-making, I suppose I should have felt completely off kilter. But strangely enough...I didn't.

_Death, violence, intrigue, sex, love...how the fuck had all of those things suddenly become so familiar to me?_

A warm kiss pressed into the side of my neck and I startled slightly. Warm arms were wrapping around me from behind. "Good morning, angel."

I shut the door against the cold draft, smiling as I turned into his chest. Nikolai was unconcernedly naked. His strong hands pulled me closer, enveloping me against his warm body. _My god_. He looked so beautiful with his sleep tousled hair, his deep green eyes glinting warmly.

"Good morning, Nikolai. I hope I didn't wake you."

He shook his head and smiled, kissing me gently. "Not at all, darling. I slept quite deeply. Unexpectedly so."

I arched a brow, returning his smile. "Unexpectedly?"

His smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose I am...unaccustomed to sharing a bed."

"Is that so? Then I suppose I am a very lucky girl to have had the privilege of your company in my bed last night," I teased.

He brushed an errant curl of my disarrayed hair behind my ear. "I wouldn't have it any other way, angel. And as I have always said, I am the fortunate one to have you with me." His eyes fell to the marks on my neck. He frowned as he traced over them with his thumb. "I have hurt you, Y/N. I must apologize."

I shook my head and took his hand, kissing his thumb. "Not at all. I think I like them," I whispered and bit down gently a smile.

His eyes flashed with heated amusement. "Not nearly as much as I enjoyed giving them to you. Of that I can assure you."

I smiled. It was incredibly distracting to feel the press of his warm solid body against me. The utterly compelling miles of smooth tattooed skin. _My god_.

"You must be cold, Nikolai. Let me get you something to wear."

It was his turn to shake his head. He smiled and kissed me lightly on my earlobe. "Shower with me first, darling," he whispered hotly against my ear as he pulled me tighter to his chest.

A warm shiver tingled down my neck. I dragged my fingernails lightly down his back. When I reached the lovely swell of his ass, I dug them in gently, relishing his warm chuckle in reply.

"Very well, Mr. Itchenko," I smiled as I released him. His warm green eyes glinted impishly as he took my hand and led me back through the bedroom and into the bathroom. I saw a small black bag on the vanity near the sink.

"What is that?"

"My toilette bag," he replied simply, though his eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Ahhh," I smiled. "You came prepared last night."

His smile widened. "I left it in my vehicle. I did not wish to appear too presumptuous when I arrived at your doorstep."

I laughed. "If you wanted to have a slumber party, all you had to do was ask, Nikolai," I purred coquettishly.

He arched a lascivious brow. "Is that so?" He reached for me but I danced out of his grasp playfully and moved to turn on the shower.

"And speaking of my doorstep," I smiled as I turned the tap. "How do you know where I live?"

He advanced on me slowly, his gaze heavy and focused entirely on me. An enigmatic smile curved over his lips. "I know a great many things about you, darling."

He stopped just a breath away, towering above me. He reached for the tie of my robe, pulling it slowly out of its knot. My pulse began thrumming in my veins. He gently pushed the robe off my shoulders, humming deeply as his eyes roved over my body. "You are in fact my favorite topic of study," he whispered.

I swallowed, trying in vain not to let my eyes wander over his gloriously solid nude form. "You've done your homework on me? I am flattered, Nikolai."

He smiled. "I am but a mere supplicant to a magnificent goddess."

He took my hands and led me towards the shower. I followed obediently as he pulled me under the warm spraying water with him. He plucked my shower pouf from its hook and poured a large dollop of lavender shower gel over it. I watched him raptly.

_My god he really does look delicious soaking wet._

He moved behind me, kissing down the back of my neck. "Will my beautiful goddess allow me to worship her?"

I laughed softly and reached up behind me, winding my hand around the back of his neck. "Yes please, baby."

He lathered my shower pouf and began to glide it slowly over my arms and chest. His free hand splayed over my soapy breasts, his fingertips gently tugging on my nipples. I moaned plaintively and arched my back, rolling my hips back into his. The hard length of his cock pressed into my ass, sliding teasingly against my skin. _And I want...god do I want him._

His voice was a low rumble at my ear. "So eager, angel. However will I get you clean if you continue to tantalize me?"

I moaned in response and his hands drifted down my abdomen and between my legs. He rubbed the pouf lightly over my sex and then replaced it with his soap slick fingers, dipping them into my folds. My hips jerked as his fingertips brushed agonizingly gently over my clit.

"Have you no mercy, Nikolai?" I gasped.

His answering chuckle was warm and slightly rasping. "Perhaps I want to hear you beg," he growled, grinding his hips into my ass.

This was completely unfair. He seemed to command my body so effortlessly. I was so sorely tempted to give in to my base instinct to yield to his seduction, but a small defiant part of me was aching to turn the tables on him. To make him moan and beg.

With an arduous effort I pulled away from him. I turned and met his heated gaze. I tugged the pouf from his hand, flashing him a provocative smile. "It's my turn now."

A slow sultry smile passed over his lips in reply. I began to wash his chest, running my hands over the smooth lithe planes of muscle. Beads of water clung so compelling to his tan skin. He stood as still as a statue, watching me raptly.

I relished every moment as I grazed my hands over his dark wet tattoos. My fingertips lightly traced over the dagger at his throat, the panther and lion over his pectorals, and further down the winding snake and crowned skull.

He gave away nothing with his calm serene smile, but his chest rose and fell deeply with heavy breath. I trailed my fingertips teasingly slow down the muscular ridges of his abdomen. My eyes drifted down to that deliciously thick hard cock. My mouth watered and I licked my lips. I gently grazed my fingertips along his length. I heard him suck in a small breath, the smallest moan escaping his lips. I met his eyes. _Mmmmm_...his face was a picture: lips parted, his wide dark pupils practically saturated with lust.

I was suddenly reminded of that night after our tryst at Matryoshka. When I had been fantasizing about him in the shower, imagining his wet muscular body, him stroking his thick hard cock. I felt a blush blooming hotly over my cheeks and smiled.

"And what is that small secret smile for, angel?" he asked, that low baritone voice rough and heated.

"I'm just remembering that night at Matryoshka."

"Please do tell. You have my full attention," he smiled.

I bit down on the corner of my lip. "I fantasized about you in the shower that night."

His eyes were alight as he pulled me to his chest. "Oh angel, please do tell me more."

I giggled. "Ah, but it's a secret. It was quite shameful of me, you know. Fantasizing about a man after the very first date."

He smiled. "You should not chastise yourself, my dear. I fantasized about you the first day I met you."

I gasped in mock outrage. "Oh my. How scandalous of you, Nikolai. And what pray tell did you fantasize about?"

"Let me show you," he whispered, curving a hand behind my neck. He kissed me deeply, our mouths sliding together under the warm pelting water. His lips moved to my throat and then down to my breasts. He tongued my nipples into his mouth and a shivery little moan welled up from my throat.

He sank down to his knees, trailing his lips down my stomach. He cast his eyes up to mine, his pupils so wide and dark. I couldn't tear my eyes away, lost in his mesmeric gaze. His hands glided up the sides of my legs and gripped my hips possessively. And then he was lifting one of my thighs up over his shoulder as he knelt at my feet.

He mouthed those plush lips lightly over my sex and I keened softly. His unshaven cheeks burned enticingly against my sensitive flesh. My legs began to tremble, anticipation roaring through every nerve. "My sweet, sweet angel..." he whispered reverently as if it was a prayer.

"Oh god, Nikolai...Please-"

And then suddenly his tongue was diving into my folds and dragging hotly over my clit. _And my god, it felt so fucking good_. A high needy sob tore out of me, my knees going weak and threatening to buckle. He gripped my hips firmly in his grasp and held me steady.

I carded my fingers into his hair and tugged hard on his scalp. He growled and suckled hard on my clit, making me cry out wantonly. I was such a tense and trembling wreck, gasping and panting and he did wickedly marvelous things with that agile tongue.

I began to writhe against that beautiful face, my orgasm coiling hotly inside me. A desperate little whimper escaped me, my legs shuddering like mad. I was chanting his name in whispered litany, rolling my hips in desperate little jerks. And then my orgasm was slamming into me white hot and blinding, obliterating all coherent thought as I came hard on his mouth.

Nikolai groaned with pleasure, drinking me deeply. His tongue lathed gently over my pulsing sex and then thrust inside me forcefully. I gasped, my whines of pleasure hitching into a choked desperate cry.

He kissed my throbbing pussy soothingly and wiped his glazed lips, his dark eyes aflame. His voice was a rough strained growl. "Need to be inside you now, Y/N."

Before I had even registered what was happening, he lifted me into his arms as if I was weightless, pressing my back against the tiled wall of the shower. I twined my trembling legs around his waist. His throbbing cock glided slickly over my aching pussy and then he was thrusting into me slowly with a strangled moan.

And _oh fuck_ he was filling me completely. That thick cock stretched me deliciously. Utterly. My still quivering inner muscles clenched tightly around him.

"Oh angel," he groaned, his voice ragged and thick with lust. "You were made for me, my darling." He captured my lips in a searingly ferocious kiss.

I keened deliriously, my eyes fluttering closed. He began rocking his hips up into mine slowly, stretching me impossibly deeper. I ran my fingers into his wet hair, pulling him closer and panting into his mouth. I tightened my grip in his hair, tugging hard. He groaned loudly against my lips. _Oh my, he really does like that_. The thought passed fleetingly through my mind but was quickly drowned in a haze of hot senseless ecstasy.

"God-Nikolai-" I gasped breathlessly, "you feel so-so...god-how do you do this to me..."

I felt his hand at my throat, gently cradling my chin. My eyes fluttered open to meet his darkly feral gaze. "Because you are mine, angel," he growled.

"Yes, Nikolai. I am all yours. You're all that I want," I moaned mindlessly.

And my god those beautiful green eyes seemed to glow at my words. He kissed me so fiercely, inelegant and wild. He began to pound into me mercilessly hard. I whimpered desperately, my senses so completely overloaded.

He trailed scorching kisses down my chin and up to my ear, my name woven into a torrid stream of whispered Russian. The relentless pounding of that incredibly thick cock utterly overwhelmed me. I came hard around him with a plaintive sob, free falling from the edge of madness.

My inner muscles clenched tightly around him. His entire body tensed, his legs shaking with the effort as he came with a loud quavering moan. He thrust so deeply inside me, filling me with the hot flood of his cum.

I was a mewling breathless mess in his arms. He kissed me deeply, tenderly. I wound my arms around him as he hugged me tightly to his chest, nuzzling his face into my neck.

"You can't possibly keep ravishing me like this, Nikolai," I breathed. "I'll never survive."

I felt him smile against my skin. He lifted his head and met my eyes. His voice was a soft rasping rumble. "I cannot help myself, angel. Just being in your proximity...I feel things I cannot possibly resist."

I didn't know how to reply. My voice felt trapped in my throat. I dragged it out with supreme effort. "When I'm with you, I'm the one who can't resist," I whispered. "You are much stronger than me, Nikolai."

His shook his head slowly, tenderly palming the side of my face. And _my god_ , his expression was so starkly and profoundly sincere, the adoration in his eyes threatening to take my breath away. "My love...you have no idea how weak I have become."

My breath caught in my throat. I was so hopelessly overwhelmed, ensnared in that beautiful captivating gaze. My mind scrabbled desperately for something, anything to splinter the intensity of the moment.

"Do you intend to keep me in bed all weekend, Nikolai?" I asked, my voice quavering slightly.

He kissed me softly. "Perhaps. We shall see. The day is still young. But for now..." he smiled, "come back to bed with me, angel."


	12. Part Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *my writing muse is currently in bloom! I have so many ideas and scenes to come in mind. I wanted to post a quick little update of some finished work before I lose my nerve. Enjoy!*
> 
>  
> 
> "Well now..." She eyed me a moment before turning back to Nikolai. "Handsome and charming. And you are a friend of Miss Y/N here?" she asked keenly.
> 
> Nikolai snaked an arm around my waist. "Her lover," he corrected with a smile. 
> 
> I almost choked on air.

Part Twelve

 

I awoke to fingertips lightly grazing over my back and up to my shoulder. I stirred and snuggled into the warmth of Nikolai's chest as he kissed me softly on the forehead. Daylight was drifting into the room from the window in pale lazy slats of light.

I kissed the panther snarling from under my cheek and hummed contentedly. "This is quite decadent, Nikolai," I sighed against his skin. "Lounging in bed all morning. I feel like some kind of Roman empress."

He chuckled warmly, nuzzling his nose into my hair. "Shall I find some grapes to feed you by hand, darling?"

"That won't be necessary."

"I think perhaps I should feed you, angel. I fear that I have selfishly expended quite a bit of your energy," he teased.

I laughed. "I could say the same for you."

He lifted my chin gently to meet my eyes. "My energy is limitless in your proximity, darling." He dragged his lips softly over mine. "Your touch is a powerful motivation."

I smiled against his lips. "As is yours, Nikolai."

"So what shall I feed my lovely empress?"

I bit my lip. "I'm afraid my fridge is pretty bare," I sighed, slightly embarrassed. "Things have been so busy lately..."

It was true of course. In the whirl of madness these last few weeks, it felt like I had hardly spent any time at home. Well, aside from dashing in and out, careening from one rash of mayhem to the next. Christ, I couldn't remember the last time I had been to the store, or washed a dish, or any other of the myriad domestic tasks of a normal person.

"Then we must remedy that, angel. Where do we purchase groceries?"

"You don't need to do that, Nikolai," I laughed lightly.

"I must insist darling. I cannot allow my empress to want for anything. And perhaps I shall cook for you tonight."

_Holy shit._

I floundered a moment, momentarily taken aback. I hadn't expected him to stay. It struck me so profoundly, I suppose because the times we spent together had always been so brief. There was always some kind of demand of the moment or professional obligation that pulled us away from each other. Our times together were fleeting. Frenzied couplings. Stolen moments. It seemed so illusory, so unreal that he was still here. That he was planning to stay longer.

This was uncharted territory for us. For me.

He was watching me, no doubt appraising my expression as these thoughts ran through my mind. "But please do not let me impose on you, Y/N. if you would prefer for me to go-"

"No-no," I interrupted quickly . "I would love for you to stay, Nikolai. I...I suppose I just expected that more...ah...pressing matters would draw you away today."

He smiled, pulling me close and brushing his lips softly over mine again. "There is nothing so precipitous as to drag me away from you today, angel. I will stay as long as you will have me."

I quickly scoured away the surprise from my expression and smiled. "Then I suppose we should get dressed."

 

@@@@@@@@@

 

I had slipped on some jeans and my favorite grey sweater, pulled my hair into a messy bun, and quickly slapped on some bare minimum makeup. Thankfully Nikolai's clothes were dry this morning, though his polo shirt had unfortunately suffered a bit of damage last night. The collar had been hopelessly ripped, apparently the result of our ferocious tryst the night before. He had smiled knowingly when he showed it to me, pulling at the fabric slowly with his fingers, his eyes sparkling with salacious reminiscence.

I had dragged myself out of that dark gaze with a strenuous effort before the blush on my cheeks could flare too warmly. I had dug out an oversized black Henley sweater from my closet for him. It was soft and comfortable, one of my favorites to lounge around the house. It was large enough that it always dropped off my shoulders. But of course it fit perfectly on his broader chest and muscular shoulders.

And now here I was in the passenger seat of his Mercedes as we drove down the quiet country road.

 _Headed to the grocery store with Nikolai_.

 _Wow_.

_This is so fucking surreal._

I snuck a sideways glance at him, so leisurely poised in the driver's seat in his dark sunglasses. The artful shadow of stubble on his sculpted jaw. The glow of sunlight on the effortlessly elegant tousle of his hair. My Henley sweater. _My god it is so fucking unfair how delectable he always looks_.

He turned to me and smiled wordlessly. One of his hands left the steering wheel and covered my knee, squeezing it affectionately.

Had we been in the city, it would have been entirely too conspicuous for Nikolai and I to go be going anywhere together. Conspicuous. Dangerous. But out here in the backwoods, I knew there was thankfully little to no chance of encountering anyone of consequence. I didn't know anyone really well out here. Perhaps that was one of the perks of being a homebody away from work.

I amused myself for a reckless moment imagining the totally implausible chance running into someone from work.

_Oh hello there, Sgt. Martinez. Oh, and you know Nikolai Itchenko, right? What a coincidence that he and I both arrived here in the middle of nowhere at the same time on a Saturday morning. Please pay no mind to our mussed hair or the fact that we both look like we just rolled out of bed..._

_Christ._

We turned off the road at my direction and pulled into the gravel drive of Miss Mabel's General Store. Living out in the boonies meant slim pickings for groceries. There wasn't a Walmart for many miles. Mabel's was only about five miles down the road. It looked like a diminutive Cracker Barrel with its wooden wrap-around porch. There were no rocking chairs though. Instead the porch was littered with an assortment of taxidermied animals on shelves. Squirrels, raccoons, snakes, and even a large stuffed alligator that grinned toothily from its perch above the doorway. A raucous zydeco song was playing from dust covered speakers by the door.

Nikolai parked the car and we walked across the gravel lot to the porch steps. There was an old man in faded coveralls snoozing in a folding chair near the entrance next to a large stack of weather beaten coolers. A small wooden sign above his head read: _Live crawfish by the pound! Fresh catfish! Gulf redfish and shrimp_!

A scruffy mongrel dog was sleeping at the old man's feet. It cracked open an eye as we passed but otherwise gave us no notice.

The entry bell jingled as we walked through the door. And there was Miss Mabel in all her glory sitting at the register counter. Though probably in her seventies by now, Miss Mabel Dufrene was no doubt one of the most flamboyant residents in this area. Her blue tinged hair was set in an immovable confection of curls on her head. A large tattoo of Elvis Presley in his jailhouse rock attire adorned her thick neck. Miss Mabel was the unofficial empress of the Gramercy Ladies Card Club that met at the one and only local coffee house in the area ( _trust me to have the ability to find a coffee house even out on the bayou_ ) and also a prolific gossip. I hastily avoided her scrutinizing gaze as she surveyed the store like a queen from her throne.

I yanked a battered cart from a stack by the door and started up one of the little aisles. "Well here we are, Chef," I smiled to Nikolai. "What shall we get?"

Nikolai returned my smile as he fell in step beside me. He slid a hand into the back pocket of my jeans and squeezed my ass playfully. "You will see..." He leaned in, kissing my earlobe. "Follow me angel," he whispered conspiratorially.

We meandered down the aisles. Nikolai would stop occasionally and pluck something off the shelves or from the produce bins. The store was only sparsely full. It seemed that it was mostly little old people out doing their shopping this morning. They would occasionally pause and gape at us, apparently somewhat scandalized each time Nikolai would grope me playfully or steal a kiss.

I laughed to myself each time he did it. It was hard to describe the strange almost giddy feeling blooming warmly in my chest. It was infectious. This was one of those secret stolen moments. A chimerical dream. A moment where it didn't matter that I was Detective Y/L/N and he was the notorious Nikolai Itchenko. Here we were at a ramshackle country store in the middle of nowhere. And we could just be...us.

When I had finally accumulated all of my necessities and Nikolai's mysterious assortment of ingredients, we made our way to the register. Miss Mabel regarded us imperiously when we approached. "Well, well, Miss Y/N. How nice to see you this morning," she drawled. "And who is your handsome friend?"

I had opened my mouth to speak, but Nikolai interjected smoothly extending his hand. "Teddy, madam. A pleasure to meet you," he smiled. Miss Mabel took his hand and he kissed her gnarled knuckles politely. Miss Mabel practically radiated with glee, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Well now..." She eyed me a moment before turning back to Nikolai. "Handsome and charming. And you are a friend of Miss Y/N here?" she asked keenly.

Nikolai snaked an arm around my waist. "Her lover," he corrected with a smile.

I almost choked on air.

Miss Mabel's jowls quivered in shock, the Elvis tattoo gyrating on her thick neck.

I felt my cheeks burning furiously but I plastered a flustered smile on my face and laughed softly. Nikolai for his part remained as reposed as ever, lifting the back hem of my sweater, tracing circles with his fingertips over the bare skin of my lower back. Miss Mabel rung up our groceries without another word, occasionally glancing up at us with a look of stunned interest.

Nikolai had insisted on paying for everything of course. I thought poor Miss Mabel's eyes were going to pop out of her head when Nikolai produced a stack of cash from his wallet and thumbed through the bills. She handed him his change dumbfounded and he gathered up our bags up in one arm.

I leaned into him as we walked outside into the cool autumn sunlight. "You can't say things like that to people out here," I hissed, but I couldn't help the huff of amusement that erupted behind my words.

He raised a brow at the admonishment. "She asked," he replied simply, but his eyes glittered mischievously.

I groaned. "This will be the gossip of day for this little town, you realize."

He laughed as he settled the bags into the backseat of the car. When he rose again, he dragged me to his chest playfully and kissed me. "Let them talk," he whispered against my lips.

"You are absolutely incorrigible," I protested weakly. _Christ_ _almighty_. There was something about being in his arms that always seemed to make it hard to hang onto my train of thought.

"And you, my darling, are entirely to blame for it," he countered. He led me over to the passenger side of the car and opened my door for me. He palmed my face affectionately and glanced back towards the entrance to the store. "Give me a moment," he smiled.

I watched bemused as he walked to the old man sleeping in the folding chair. The old man awoke grumpily but the dog stayed snoozing. I watched them converse for a moment, followed shortly by the old man's booming laugh. They both turned to look at me, Nikolai smiling impishly. The old man heaved himself out of his chair. He opened one of his coolers and retrieved what appeared to be two slick shiny redfish. He wrapped them in a swath of brown butcher paper and stuffed them into a plastic bag. Nikolai paid him cash and then walked back to me.

"Best of luck, sonny!" the old man cawed.

I sat down in the car and smirked at Nikolai as he slid into the driver's seat and dropped the bag onto the floorboard behind him. "What was that all about, _lover_?"

A smile curled over his lips as he slid a hand down my thigh to rest on me knee. "I merely informed him that I needed his best catch."

"Oh?"

"I told him that it was preparing a meal tonight to impress a beautiful woman."

I laughed. "Oh if poor Miss Mabel only knew how utterly charming you truly are."

"And utterly truthful," he replied, his smile widening. "Shall we return to the palace then, empress?"

 

  
@@@@@@@@@


	13. Part Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! My writing muse is inexplicably in bloom. :) I’ve had so many great ideas coming to me lately and I’m going to work hard to get them down in black and white. I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> “I’m a cop, Nikolai. It’s in my nature to ask questions.”
> 
> “You are so much more than just a ‘cop’, as you say, Y/N. Just as I am more than a Vor.”
> 
> “Is that how this is supposed to work, Nikolai?” I countered, the slightest trace of anger bleeding into my tone, “I’m not supposed to ask any questions?”

Part Thirteen

 

_"This is crazy. What are you trying to do to me?" Slim Grissom asked, pacing in agitation._

_"Just make you a little more human," Miss Blandish purred, batting her sparkling silver screen lashes._

I snuggled into Nikolai's chest and felt him kiss me softly on the top of my head. We were lounging on the couch in the living room, Nikolai on his back and me lying on his chest. I had flipped on the television, idly changing channels until I came to Turner Classic movies. "No Orchids for Miss Blandish" was on, an old film noir gangster drama. _How apropos._

I had very clumsily made breakfast when we returned from Miss Mabel's. I wasn't exactly Gordon Ramsey that begin with, and the pancakes had been horribly overbrowned on one side. But hey in my own defense, it had been terribly distracting trying to cook while Nikolai pressed kisses into the back of my neck and snaked his arms around my waist. He had eaten them without complaint, though I was certain his eyes glittered with knowing mirth all the while he ate.

Nikolai was idly trailing his fingertips down my back as we watched the movie. _My god_ it felt so unnaturally...natural to be lying here with him. Lounging around like we didn’t have a care in the world. Like such a thing could be possible for people like us. Lest I forget, my mind recalled that the last time we had found ourselves in anything remotely resembling a domestic moment together, the evening had ended in bloodshed.

 _God was that really last night?_ It seemed like it was a world away from me now.

_"You're the only dame that's ever got me," Slim Grissom murmured as he clutched Miss Blandish to him. "Got me way inside and twisted my guts. But what sort of a life can you have with me here?"_

_"Just life, Slim," she smiled. "Oh, please there is such a lot I want to tell you and I can only say a little of it. I know you've killed people, I saw you. But I could believe that was justified. You've broken the law in every way there is to break it. I expect you started stealing as a little boy. You're cold, you're hard, you're ruthless, but I..._

"He protests far too much," Nikolai said, tearing my attention from the silver screen lovers.

I laughed and lifted my head, looking up into his eyes. "You think so?

He smiled. "Most certainly. He has a lovely young woman who loves him. I do not understand why he should deny her. He is quite fortunate."

I hummed amusedly and returned his smile. "Perhaps he just has a prophetic soul. If I remember correctly, this story ends very tragically and bloodily. Then again, I suppose all great stories do."

Nikolai chuckled. "That is a very Russian sentiment, my dear. I am impressed. However not all profound stories must end that way."

"Well of course a romantic comedy certainly doesn’t follow that mold. But it seems any story of great drama usually does, don’t you think? Just look at the Greeks,” I laughed.

Nikolai's smile faltered, his deep green eyes becoming soft and serious. He was silent a moment. "I don't believe that will be our fate, darling."

I swallowed, taken aback but the sudden serious curve of the conversation.

"You know what fate has in store, do you?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he pulled me up his chest so that we were nose to nose. "I believe I do possess some foresight, yes." He kissed me softly. "I see me making you dinner tonight," he interspersed each phrase with a kiss. "I see me taking you to bed afterwards...and making love to you until you beg me to stop..."

I giggled. "Oh really?"

"Mmm, yes..." he murmured. "I see you falling asleep in my arms. And making those lovely little purring sighs in your sleep."

My mouth fell open in amused embarrassment. "I do no such thing!"

He smiled and laughed. "I can assure you that you do. They are very contented sighs, darling. I think they are quite compelling."

 

  
@@@@@@@@@

 

  
The first call came just before dinner.

Nikolai had playfully shooed me away from the stove when I asked if I could help him cook. I had to content myself with watching him from my perch on the counter while he began mixing some dry ingredients in a bowl.

And then there was a ring from his pocket.

He wiped his hands on a dish towel and pulled the phone from his pants. He frowned as he looked down at the screen. "Please excuse me a moment, darling." He kissed me gently on the forehead and retreated out the back door to the porch.

After a few moments I pushed off the counter and managed the courage to hazard a peek through the porch blinds.

Nikolai's back was to me, the phone at his ear. He cut such a stark figure, a solitary dark silhouette against a cloudy expanse of foggy woods. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I had spent enough years watching people's body language to interpret the signs of tension. His left arm was crossed over his chest, his fingertips rooted into the crook of his right elbow. I watched the tense shift of his shoulders that I knew had nothing to do with the cold. Something was clearly amiss.

_Shit. I shouldn't be doing this._

A small cold bubble of guilt swelled up in my chest. It didn't feel... _right_ to be spying on him. But admittedly, my curiosity was piqued. I thought back to last night, hearing his muted voice from the living room, hearing his mutter the name Pushkin.

_Holy fuck that could be Vladimir Pushkin on the phone right now..._

_Christ_. Well, I imagine there is still much to discuss after the botched assassination attempt last night. No doubt the Vors were all abuzz with that dramatic turn of events. Just another streak of bloody fucking mayhem. The image flashed through my mind of those two macabrely gift-wrapped packages, Blondie and Beard.

_What had been done with their bodies..._

That jittery nameless frisson bloomed in my chest and then sank darkly into my stomach.

It struck me suddenly how quietly and insidiously a shift had seemed to occur. What was formerly a lazy languid afternoon at home with Nikolai had been interrupted by an unexpected but no less virulent little dose of reality. And all it took was one little phone call...

_Christ almighty girl. Did you happen to forget that you watched him kill two men last night?_

Little Miss Subconscious sighed dramatically. "Of course you forgot about it, darling. He came over and you fucked like rabbits. You couldn't be bothered to analyze the events last night. You couldn't have discussed it with him. Besides you had your mouth full with his..."

I shoved her image aside as I huffed out a frustrated sigh.

_Jesus, Y/N. What the fuck are you doing?_

_You’re doing what you're supposed to be doing, remember? Keeping your eyes and ears open for organized crime intelligence._

_Christ almighty, how am I going to tell Susan about all of this? Do I tell Susan about this at all?_

I gazed out the window at Nikolai's back.

_My god, this man._

I idled a moment to really take him in with my eyes. The wide expanse of his broad shoulders in my Henley sweater. The muscular lines of his back that dipped so elegantly to his trim waist. That gorgeous ass.

_Ugh, god._

_This man is so lovely. And he treats me so sweetly. And I am more than convinced that he is in love with me._

A warm spike of fondness rose in my chest. My hand fluttered to my sternum, curious if this was a feeling I could touch. If it was something tangible I could clutch onto and banish the chill in my gut.

But it didn't.

It fizzled and dropped into my stomach like a stone, swallowed up by the swirl of guilt, or nerves, or whatever the fuck was twisting my insides into an uncomfortable knot.

I was so immersed in my thoughts I didn't notice the shift in Nikolai's movement. He was lowering the phone from his ear. Before he could turn, I jerked away from the window and dashed back to my perch on the counter. _Christ almighty I am such a ridiculous fucking caricature of a spy!_

I had just successfully slowed my breath when Nikolai emerged from the porch and shut the door behind him.

"My apologies, darling," he said as he approached. "Just business." He brushed a strand of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. I nodded wordlessly. He tilted his head, regarding me acutely with a soft smile on his handsome features. "Are you alright?"

I returned his smile, hopefully without a trace of anything awry on my expression. "Of course."

 

  
@@@@@@@@@

 

  
Dinner had been absolutely perfect. And it was a welcome distraction from my wayward musings.

As much as I had tried to banish the restless feeling coiled in my gut, it kept finding a way to defy me. Even something as innocuous as watching Nikolai as he cleaned and filleted the fish. It was effortless the way he wielded the knife, wielded it so deftly in his deadly fingers.

The knife sliced cleanly into the flesh. The tearing gullet forced the jaw to gape and close as if the fish was still alive and spluttering. The image flashed through my mind of Beard’s face as the knife dragged roughly through his neck. The gaping mouth opening and closing. The wide eyes glistening with madness, disbelieving of their owner’s fate.

I banished the image from my mind quickly, forcing it down before there was any danger of something specious reflecting on my expression. I focused myself firmly on watching the way Nikolai so fastidiously prepared our meal.

And I was incredibly impressed with the preparation. It was so unexpected. He seemed to relish this mysterious ritual, looking up at me occasionally and smiling wordlessly. The dry mixture had turned out to be a pastry dough, mixed together from honest-to-God scratch. After much cajoling on my part that I wanted to help, I was finally allowed to cook some rice while he chopped and sautéed onions, mushrooms and fresh dill.

Things got quite interesting when it was time for the dough to be rolled. Nikolai still refused to reveal what dish he was making. In the interest of payback for the pancakes, I decided to distract him as much as possible as he floured and prepped the dough. A very fierce kissing and groping session ensued that resulted in both of us bearing battle wounds in the form of white flour handprints all over our clothes.

The mysterious concoction was finally revealed to be a kind of redfish shepherds pie with a delicate glaze of diced red peppers, white wine, butter and lemon. My god it had been delicious. Nikolai had watched me expectantly at the very first bite and seemed to glow with pride and my relished sigh.

“This is a delicious dinner, Nikolai,” I smiled. “Your culinary skills far outmatch my own.”

He laughed. “I am delighted that you are enjoying it, darling. It is kulebiaka. Traditionally it is prepared with salmon, but I am pleased that it fared well with your local fish.”

“Fared well is an understatement. It is wonderful,” I giggled and took another bite.

He reached across the dining table, taking my hand and caressing my knuckles. “It is a very old recipe. It was one of my mother’s favorite dishes to cook.”

I froze mid-chew at his words.

_His mother? Holy fuck._

My conversation with John Morgan surged into memory. Nikolai’s parents either murdered by the KGB or perishing from drug overdoses. Their little boy shipped off to a juvenile work camp. A childhood of violence...pain...tragedy...

I met Nikolai’s eyes, his expression so soft and serene as he regarded me warmly. I imagined a little boy with the same stormy green eyes and a flood of warmth washed over me, a fierce and sudden tightness encircling my heart. _My god._

I managed a small smile, quickly recovering myself. “It is a lovely dish, Nikolai. You did a wonderful job.”

He squeezed my hand gently and smiled. “Nothing less would do for my empress.”

 

  
@@@@@@@@@@

 

  
I hadn't realized how truly decadent a garden tub could be. I reveled in the warm soapy water and the warm solid man at my back. I sighed as I leaned back into his chest.

There had been another phone call after dinner, another retreat to the back porch, another few minutes of me dithering around the kitchen desperately curious about what was being discussed outside.

I shoved all thought of that restlessness aside now. It wasn’t hard to do. Nikolai had taken it upon himself to meticulously wash and rinse my hair as I luxuriated in his embrace. It was incredibly soothing to feel his long, dexterous fingers massaging my scalp and combing through each strand of hair.

His long muscular legs were stretched out alongside my own. I traced my fingertips down his shins as he brushed his lips lazily over the back of my neck and kissed my shoulders. I hadn't yet had the opportunity to study the tattoos on his legs. They trailed like creeping vines from the bold Vor stars on his knees.

There was a delicate spiderweb, a crouching imp, a skeleton with eyes aflame and draped in ropes of thorns. I saw a hand holding a tulip, the flower tied to the wrist with a chain. I recalled that a tulip typically signified an underage convict, a ward of those awful "educational" labor colonies for juvenile offenders.

I paused my caress at the base of his right knee. There was a grinning skull impaled upon the fulcrum of an ornate scales of justice. I recognized the scales too. They were indicative of an authority, a boss tattoo signifying that the bearer was one who "settled accounts".

Accounts that were no doubt settled very effectively with swift and merciless action.

Surrounding the scales were the words: Я не прощу предательства.

_I shall not forgive betrayal._

My attention was caught by a narrow jagged scar. The pale line began up by the side of his knee, wrapped around the muscle of his calf, and then descended down past the soapy waterline. I traced it with my hand, running my fingertip along the thin puckered flesh.

"Where did you get this scar?"

He hummed. "Chechnya. Razor wire on a fence."

“Jesus,” I murmured.

I felt him shake his head. “That one is not so bad. The shrapnel from the GP-30 grenade was much deeper.” He took my hand in his and brought it behind me to the right side of his hip. I felt a small patch of rough skin under my fingers.

_Razor wire? A fucking grenade?_

“How did you-“ I began.

“The Chechen War. Counter insurgency operations. It was a very long time ago, angel. I was fortunate. Others sustained injuries far worse than I.”

"Was that from your time with Spetznaz?"

I felt the smallest ripple in the water as he stilled for a moment.

“Spetznaz?” He hummed again softly, nuzzling his face into the back of my neck. "Now where would you hear a thing such as that?" he asked, and I could hear the faintest note of amusement in his voice.

I turned around, the water bobbing and threatening to overtop the rim of the tub as I pressed my chest to his. A darkly pleased rumble sounded from his throat, a mysterious smile curling over his lips as he clasped me closer.

“Perhaps I have done my own homework on you," I quipped.

“Is that so, darling?” His smile widened. “And what is it you have learned?”

“A great many things....” I paused. “Though I imagine not nearly as much as you have learned about me.”

He inclined his head. “Do you really believe that is so?”

I was seized by some sudden rash and completely reckless impulse. “Tell me something, Nikolai...” I took a breath. “How did you know that I was appointed as the FBI liaison?”

“There are always reliable sources of information to be found if one is looking,” he replied cryptically.

I pressed on recklessly. “And who was your particular source of information about me?”

He paused. I watched as a change seeped over his expression. His eyes narrowed, reluctant caution coloring his features. “You should not ask me such things, angel...” he said firmly. There was a resonance of warning in his voice.

“I’m a cop, Nikolai. It’s in my nature to ask questions.”

“You are so much more than just a ‘cop’, as you say, Y/N. Just as I am more than a Vor.”

“Is that how this is supposed to work, Nikolai?” I countered, the slightest trace of anger bleeding into my tone, “I’m not supposed to ask any questions?”  
  
His gaze darkened and he reached up to palm the side of my face, rivulets of warm water running down my cheek. “Please angel...there are a great many things I wish to tell you. But there are certain matters that I cannot reveal.” He sighed. “I’m afraid that I am dreadfully ill-equipped to explain...”

“I see,” I interjected tartly.

 _Christ almighty._ I didn’t know where this sudden bold distemper had come from. Perhaps it was the fatigue of analyzing my own confused feelings all evening. Perhaps it was the product of frustration bursting free. Frustration with these bizarre circumstances in which I found myself, frustration at the situation I felt pinioned against, mafia intrigues, federal investigations, secret infiltration missions, violence, bloodbaths, stolen moments...

I sighed.

Frustration with the idea- _no, the fact_ \- that I was falling in love with a man...but unable to imagine a normal relationship with him.

He had stopped speaking at my interruption. There was a small muscle twitching in his jaw. _And my god, his eyes._ They became so guileless, so sincere. All the carefully guarded prudence seemed to have been stripped from his gaze.

I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“I never expected any of this,” he said, a curious, painful rawness to his voice.

This wasn’t the careful choosing of words that I was used to hearing. Just agonizing sincerity. A stripped bare confession. The words stung as I heard them. As if they were something corporeal, vulnerable, something that I could touch and come away with blood on my palms.

I was stunned into a lapse of silence. I didn’t know what to say. There weren't words to encapsulate this feeling, and even if there were, I didn’t know if I could trust myself to say them.

_This man...this beautiful man. This master special forces soldier, ruthless enforcer, damaged child, refined gentleman, talented chef, passionate lover, violent gangster...this man I am in love with..._

And then it hit me. And I realized with a slow, muted horror that I was in this far deeper than I had ever intended to be...

Far deeper than I had expected. Just like him.

I felt a sudden burning and moisture welling at the corners of my eyes.

“I’m sorry Nikolai. I didn’t mean to be...” I stopped. “I know that you are a Vor...”

He took my hand and pressed it to his chest just above his heart. “Angel...” he whispered, “Angel, I am _yours_.”

I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I couldn’t bear the unadulterated adoration in his eyes. I crashed my lips against his and kissed him so hard I thought my lips would bruise. He made a low noise in his throat and surged up against me, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I distantly noted the cascading splash of water as it overtopped the rim of the tub.

And god, we kissed and kissed and kissed for what seemed like hours. The rough hungry kisses melted into sweet, soft pressing of lips. The gentle, languid kisses escalated back into violently consuming kisses and bites, and then slowly evolved back into tenderness again.

I didn’t trust myself to stop. I didn't trust myself to drag air into my lungs and take a breath, lest my own confessions come tumbling out of my mouth.

_I love you. God help me. I love you, I love you, I love you..._

_  
My god_. If I had only known the madness that was to come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress with multiple chapters to come. This is my first fan fiction. Comments and critiques please! :)


End file.
